


A Little Death

by xxjinchuurikixx



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blow Jobs, Bottom!Bucky, Bucky Barnes Feels, Cuddles, For the First Time in Forever, Hotel Sex, M/M, Minor mentions of - Freeform, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Shower Sex, past ALMOST noncon, so many feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-30
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-08-11 23:31:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7911790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxjinchuurikixx/pseuds/xxjinchuurikixx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been on the run for a while, and Steve thinks Bucky is getting better.</p><p>But there's something Bucky needs to feel human again.</p><p>He needs Steve. The way he's always needed him.</p><p>-<br/>In which Steve and Bucky are in a shoddy motel in the middle of the mountains with nothing but each other and the one memory Steve didn't think Bucky would get back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Death

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [小死一回](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9489353) by [joankindom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joankindom/pseuds/joankindom)



> Inspired by [A Little Death](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LHeN3RXvCxg/) by The Neighborhood and my intense desire for bottom!Bucky
> 
> Part of the [StuckyBigBang](http://thestuckylibrary.tumblr.com/), featuring GORGEOUS art from the lovely and talented [juliabizarre](http://juliabizarre.tumblr.com/post/149658593695/a-drawing-for-xxjinchuurikixx-s-a-little-death/) and [thisfanisonfire](http://thisfanisonfire.tumblr.com/post/149698174138/stucky-big-bang-2016-this-is-my-art-piece-for//) who are too... too good for words. Thank you both so much. I could cry.
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr!! [xxjinchuurikixx](http://xxjinchuurikixx.tumblr.com/)
> 
> xo, mo

 

  
  
  
  
  


"Well, it could be a hell of a lot worse," Steve says absently, kicking his foot against the pipe beneath the sink. It’s the kind of curved metal usually hidden by some kind of cabinetry. The faucet is dripping, and the pipe is damp and a tad too fuzzy for Steve's taste. "We could be bunking in the forest."

There are worse places to be sleeping, after all. Steve’s never been one to say he was picky. Steve was in a war. He slept in worse conditions before.

He and Bucky split from Natasha and Sam a few weeks ago on a privatized mission to completely and totally eradicate Hydra.

Their campaign had been almost too successful, so far. They were running out of leads, finding each rat they could and following their trail back to their colony. Hydra was vanishing, slowly but surely. And, technically speaking, completely off the record. As it were, Bucky could only remember three more bases for sure, and their last lead told them of five. It would take them less than a year to sort through those facilities with fist and fire.

Each exploded warehouse and each crashed computer system is just another victory, another step towards justice and a safer tomorrow.

For Steve, it also means another step out of the darkness and into the light for Bucky.

Of course, victory usually tasted a little sweeter at a hotel with clean sheets that was at least within a mile of a McDonald’s.

At least the sheets were cleaner than the forest floor.

Natasha went across the ocean a month ago, presumably Russia, Sam down to Brazil, and Steve and Bucky?

Canada.

Exciting.

Steve was just glad that, when the opportunity presented itself, neither Natasha or Sam made comment on how he and Bucky hadn't split up to cover more ground and chase more leads.

They couldn't split up. If something happened to Bucky… Well. Steve had just got him back a short time ago. He couldn't let him go again.

So there they were, in a heat up hotel somewhere off the tail end of the mountains.

And it’s not that it's a bad hotel. It just definitely isn't a very good one.

Upon arrival, the concierge--or whatever you call the key-master of such a rickety hotel--was unconscious at the desk. Better that way in the long run, Steve supposes, when taking into account he and Bucky are wearing tattered hoodies and enemy blood on their hands. So he swiped a key--metal, with teeth--from behind the desk and used the giant tag on the handle to find the room he’d picked.

And he wonders, if he had picked differently, if the outcome would have been the same.

The room looks like it hasn't seen a turn down for a while; the blankets rumpled and the carpets stained by damp trodden steps, and the curtains are threadbare, the vacancy sign blinking outside casting an ugly red glow upon half the room. The room itself is big enough for a queen sized bed and a bedside table topped with a lamp which Steve clicked on already. Another lamp sits on a tall end table beside the TV and Steve clicked that on, too, making the room yellow and bright. Steve had made it from the paint-chipped door to the bathroom in about five strides during his inspection, depositing his shield and rucksack at the bed's foot on the way. The shower seems to be the nicest part of the room in its entirety, with a large, rectangular porcelain tub and brass knobs and faucets. No curtain. The leaking sink is a copper bowl tilted out of the wall, with no counter beside it. The toilet, well... With the looks of it, Steve would rather take his chances outside behind some bushes, lest a pipe burst when he flushes. There’s an out-dated TV standing on a plywood board atop two cinder blocks that serves five static channels. (Steve checked, and knows there are five because all five statics were different shades of gray)

Bucky’s watching one of those five channels absently from the space right in front of the doorway when Steve finally talks. Steve says something else, about how they might be able to squeeze into the tub together. Unless Bucky’s willing to fight over the bed, a fight, Steve promises, Bucky will probably win right about now.

When Bucky doesn’t respond, Steve turns to look over his shoulder.

Those gray eyes are locked to the screen, watching the rise and fall of black and white pixels scrambling over one another. His brows are furrowed, his lips parted softly, and Bucky has his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie, neatly out of Steve’s sight. A few strands of his bangs have escaped from the ponytail knotted at the back of his skull, a dark contrast to Bucky’s skin.

Steve can see immediately that something is not right.

It could be lack of sleep, considering their last hotel stop was in Nebraska three days ago. But Steve knows better.

“Buck?” He calls quietly, and it barely stirs Bucky’s expression. He just curls in on himself a bit tighter, his expression pinching.

Steve presses his lips, stares at the ripped seam of grout where the bedroom carpet meets the bathroom tile. “Can we talk?”

And there it is.

Bucky was waiting for that.

He has dozens of things to say. He’s wanted to talk to Steve for days. They’ve been on the run for almost a months, after they all decided Hydra needed to be burned to the ground. But it’s hard to talk when you’re running for your life.

Running for your life…

Out of cryo for so long, Bucky stumbled on until he couldn’t stumble anymore. He fell asleep under the front staircase of an old apartment complex in Brooklyn and woke up on Steve’s couch. Apparently, he’d found his way back to their old place and, apparently, Steve had been in the neighborhood that evening.

Coincidence, Bucky said. Fate, Steve promised.

Bucky doesn’t remember waking up, clinging to Steve as he gently shook him awake. He doesn’t remember letting Steve pick him up like he was nothing and carry him nearly twenty blocks to the apartment he and Sam had been holed up in since DC.

The couch he woke on was far better than a concrete slab, and Steve's unconscious figure in the recliner beside him was enough to convince the soldier to stay. His heart rate was nearly normal by the time his hunger insisted he give Steve's knee a light tap.

And when Steve’s baby blues fluttered open and glittered with tears seeing Bucky’s face… Bucky couldn’t handle it. Steve asked, oh-so hesitantly, if he could hug Bucky.

Bucky said yes. They were a mess of arms after that, breathing against each other’s necks, until Sam woke up and offered bacon and coffee.

After that, Bucky slowly pieced himself together with Steve's laughter, his smiles. He remembered what it meant to be Bucky Barnes, to belong at Steve Rogers' side.

Bucky zones out again, stringing thoughts together about how he should have ran alone, how he should have left Steve behind, they’re after him and Steve is with him. Steve is gonna get hurt.

Steve’s in danger, Steve’s not safe, Steve should leave him…

Steve...

"Bucky, hey," Steve says, gentle and soft, and Bucky jolts when he realizes that his friend is right in front of him, hands on his shoulders.

"Sorry, Stevie.. I didn't--"and Bucky stops, because there's not much more he can say.

"Did you wanna talk?" Steve says again, and through the dense fabric of his sweater, Bucky can feel the warm press of Steve's fingers, the circular, burrowing motions of his thumbs. “Are you hurt? Didn’t take any bullets, did ya?”

And Steve sure hopes not. He took a shot to the calf back in Montana, and digging it out had been a fucking pain. _Fuck Hydra_ , Bucky had snarled through clenched teeth, metal fingers crushing the bullet flat while his flesh and blood palm was clapped over the wound. Steve laughed, but Bucky was having none of his lip, and shut Steve right up by splashing the wound with peroxide.

Bucky swallows, manages not to sway on his tired legs as his mind fusses through many thoughts.

"Steve, I... Actually, there's somethin' I wanna say. Somethin' I wanna ask 's been botherin' me for a bit," Bucky murmurs, and Steve steps in closer, tilts his chin down to try and catch Bucky's downcast gaze.

"Buck, what is it?" He breathes, squeezing Bucky's shoulders tighter.

Bucky lifts his head like it's an act of defiance, meeting Steve's warm, patient gaze with one much more steely and cold.

There's a million ways Bucky can start this conversation.

He chooses the one with the least tact.

"Why haven't you fucked me yet?"

Steve's cheeks and ears turn red as strawberries, and his mouth drops open as he releases his grip on Bucky's shoulders.

"I-I-I uhm, I'm sorry? I don't... Buck, I think I--"Steve stammers, flushing to his hairline, and Bucky squares his jaw and turns his face away, watching Steve lower his hands to his sides, awkwardly flexing his fingers.

"I guess I shoulda opened that up a little better..." Bucky sighs, almost ashamed.

Steve laughs, shaking his head as he rubs one hand over his arm. Bucky doesn't turn to look at him, just stands still and stares at the static screen.

"I remember, you know..." He mutters, then chews his lip. "When you were small... I remember how your hips fit in my hands, how easy it was to pick you up--hold you just how I wanted," he says quietly, matter-of-factly. “You always felt so good in my arms.”

Steve's eyes are wide, mouth agape, and to be perfectly honest, this is one of the last things he ever thought he'd hear Bucky say he remembered.

"... Bucky."

"I remember I liked layin' over you, even though you liked ridin' me. Your little shoulders could never handle that for long. And you'd cough if it went on too long... But after the serum, you could handle it for _hours_. And so could I."

He takes a huge gulp of air, finds his lungs aren't opening as wide as they should be, and glances up at Steve through the fringe of his dark lashes.

"...I liked it on my hands and knees," he whispers, and a flash of something dangerous and sinful blurs like ink in water through Steve's embarrassment. "Liked kissin' you until the sun came up; always such a good kisser, you were.

"I liked feelin' your bruises under my skivvies all day at the docks. Liked feelin' it out in the countryside trackin’ Schmidt. I remember the way you tasted--when you'd come down my throat. You never could resist my tongue," Bucky husks, and fuck him if he's getting turned on. (Maybe Steve will.)

Blond brows furrowed, Steve reaches up and scrubs his hand against the back of his neck where Bucky knows the heat is rising. Steve’s throat is flushed. "Buck, where is this comin' from all of a sudden? H-how, how long have you remembered this?"

Bucky smirks. “I was alone for two years, Steve. I remember plenty of stuff. Though, to be honest, that sort of stuff… It felt like dreams. Felt like some sort of Hydra trick--some kinda rug they could yank out from under me. It all felt like a trick until three nights ago in Montana.”

Steve flinches.

And Steve remembers.

So _that_ was why Bucky had been weird the past three days. And that was why he had been an uneasy sleeper then. He gasps. "You were having a nightmare. You kept calling for me, kept sayin' my name."

Bucky shakes his head. "Wasn't no nightmare, Stevie," he sighs, a blush of rose touching his throat.

Steve's blush intensifies. "Christ, Buck, you let me hold you. I kissed your hair--I _spooned_ you."

"Gotta say, after a dream wet as that, it was easy enough to come with your prick against my ass," Bucky taunts, and Steve squeezes his eyes shut. “I think it was the first time since I got away from Hydra; my first orgasm that was mine, that was voluntary, in some seventy years... Obviously, the soldier didn’t have those kinds of needs unless it was for a mission, and being in and out of cryo, gettin’ off wasn’t exactly the first thing on my mind,” Bucky says simply. “I just closed my eyes and soaked my shorts.”

Steve imagines it, and curses the shit out of himself for it. Had he known, he may have had a little less self control, if memory serves.

“You didn’t even notice. I remembered how to be quiet. We had to be, back then. Paper thin walls at our apartment. Mrs. Abernathy came knockin’ one night when you couldn’t shut yourself up. She thought you were mighty sick, or hurt.”

Steve looks to the ceiling for guidance. “Poor Mrs. Abernathy,” he recalls, screaming with the pillow between his teeth while Bucky positively _railed_ on his prostate for the first time.

“Poor _Bucky_. I didn’t get to finish that night.”

They both chuckle at that, because Bucky’s right. After the scare, they both sat in the kitchen and finished their last bit of oatmeal in silence that could still a grave.

“Not as bad as the time Morita came to get us for supper and I was goin’ down on you under the sleepin’ bag,” Steve adds matter-of-factly, and Bucky laughs harder.

“Never heard a man scream like that.”

“Dum Dum said he knew.”

“I remember. We were so scared they’d have our asses kicked outta the army--or worse,” Bucky trails off.

“But they didn’t care… The people that mattered never did,” Steve whispers, feeling the weight and honesty of those words.

But then Bucky’s expression sombers up, and his gray eyes look cloudy and cold. Steve realizes how withdrawn he’s become, how he’s hunched up his shoulders and ducked his gaze like a dog that gets kicked regularly.

“Buck?” Steve whispers.

“Why didn’t _you_ tell me? Huh? Why didn’t you try to remind me of it?” Bucky takes a step closer, and Steve can feel the heat of his breath this near. “Why didn’t you remind me I was yours? Why didn’t you help me remember?”

Steve swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing against his pink throat. “...You can’t tell someone they love you.”

“No excuse.”

“Bucky, you needed time.” He’s sure Bucky _still_ needs time.

“I’ve had time. Like I just said, I've been alone for a while, Steve. I’ve had time. Plenty of it. My memories might not all be full-colored pictures, but I have enough to get by. They came back, all of ‘em, after a while, but nothing was so easy to remember as needin’ you to breathe.”

“Don’t say it that way. I wanted you to remember. I’ve been losing my mind over you, Buck. And when I found you, there was no time. We never have time.”

“We have it now.”

Steve swallows hard, his eyes bright and shining wet.

“You and me… We’ve changed. And the world around us has changed. I had to learn so much, I had to figure so much shit out by myself. Thank fuck for the internet. And… What we had back then, we could have again, and it would be okay. We… There’s nothing wrong with us.”

“Bucky, that’s--”

“I can have you. The world has changed so much, but the only thing that’s the same is you and how I feel about you,” his voice cracks. “And this new world brought us back, and it brought me to you, and I don’t have to hide from that anymore. The one thing I don’t have to hide…

"I've been dyin for you for months. I remember what we were, what we had, and you got no excuse. You had to have known we could be together, and all this time, you ain't so much as kissed my cheek or told me you love me," Bucky accuses, brows pinched tight as he turns his face away from Steve again.

Steve’s eyes widen, and he grabs Bucky’s forearms and tugs him closer, lifting one hand to cup his jaw tentatively. “Buck, it’s not that I… I mean, with the way everything…” He sighs heavy enough to make his shoulders quake. “I gotta be careful with you, Bucky. I _gotta_ take care of you.”

“That ain’t your job, Rogers.”

“It’s always been my job.”

“Steve, _Steve_ , you’re not _listenin_ ’ to me, pal,” Bucky snaps, and he pulls out of Steve’s grasp, stumbling backwards a few small steps.

Steve blinks at him, swallowing around the swell of heat in his tight throat.

"I'm ready to be that Bucky again. Or at least to get as close to him as I can be, and to do that, I need you to be that Steve... It's the only way, Steve," Bucky explains, looking at Steve pleadingly.

"Buck... You know I would do anything for you. I just... I don't understand. Help me understand--what do you need?" Steve says desperately.

It takes a long time before there's a response, the static from the TV humming the only sound.

“I need to feel like I’m breathin’... I need you to…” Bucky sighs, dropping his eyes down to the floor. “I need you to make me feel like I’m human.”

Steve’s heart presses angrily against his ribs, a slamming pain that pushes the air from his lungs. The distraught look on Bucky’s face is too much, that anguish, the way he suddenly looks so terribly, hopelessly lost.

“I remember who I was, and I know who I am. I used to be human. I used to be something good--something alive, breathing, warm. Being with you? It’s the only thing that reminds me of what that was like,” Bucky continues, cupping his metal hand in his flesh and blood fingers, touching it like he’s itching an old scab.

“I’ve come to a stand-still. There’s some kinda wall in front of me, and I can’t get over it. Can’t break it down, neither. I need your help.”

“Buck, anything--”

“I need you to touch me,” Bucky says.

Steve’s throat squeezes.

“I need you to find all the broken pieces and put ‘em back where they go. I’m close, I’m _so close_ , Stevie. I know I can be good again. I know I can deserve you--if only because I need you so bad. I can’t think any other way, I,” he shakes his head violently. “Your smile made the cold go away. You’re my fuckin’ sunshine, Stevie. The light of my goddamn life. God help me, I need you to touch me. I _want_ you to touch me; and not like I’m gonna break. I need you to treat me like the old Bucky--it’s the only way I’ll ever find my way back home, back to you. Completely, totally. You don’t gotta be the old Steve. I’ll _never_ be the old Buck. But that… That’s okay. I know that now--I see that now. We can just be _us_ , as long as we’re together…”

Steve feels like he’s choking. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear he was having an asthma attack. What Bucky’s saying is all the stuff of dreams. Steve wants him back, needs him back. The relationship they had before is one he can live without, but with Bucky asking for it--nearly _begging_ for that kind of love again--Steve can’t resist.

Metal fingers curl around his, and he lets Bucky lift his hand and press it to his cheek. His skin is cold, soft beneath Steve’s fingers, his palm pressing to the stubble of Bucky’s jaw.

“I want you to touch me. I wanna breathe, I wanna be human. I want this--I want _you_. If you were waiting for permission or my outright consent, you fuckin’ got it, pal. I’m yours,” Bucky rushes out, pressing into Steve’s touch like a needy animal, eyes closing like lead curtains.

Steve curves his fingers experimentally against Bucky’s face, feeling the same curve of bones beneath this new iron skin. His touch elicits a soft intake of breath, and when Bucky takes his other hand, he knows well enough to lift it to cup the other side of Bucky’s face.

There’s a tremble in Bucky Steve hadn’t seen before, the dilation of his pupils indicating something that isn’t lust…

It’s fear.

Bucky’s afraid.

And after all, he should be. After so many years with Hydra, memories that Bucky _doesn’t_ want, Steve knows he probably equates touch to torture.

So Steve waits until Bucky’s gaze has softened, then brushes his thumbs over the smooth cut of Bucky’s cheekbones.

Then Bucky sighs, eyes falling shut, and when did Steve lean in so close? When did Bucky’s cold nose get close enough for Steve to kiss?

Bucky’s eyes flutter open, and the deep, stormcloud gray of their surface is glittering with tears like starlight.

“...I wanna be _your_ Bucky again…”

Steve cannot, could never, and will not, deny his Bucky a thing. Not a single fucking thing.

Especially something so simple, so easy to give, as his heart.

“I want you to be my Steve,” Bucky adds on a shaky breath, squeezing his fingers over Steve’s hands tenderly, pleadingly. There’s a question in his voice, in the way he inhales and holds it, how he stares into Steve’s eyes, then dances his gaze down to those lips.

"...It's okay that you'll never be that Bucky again," Steve whispers, "Cause I'll never be that Steve. We've changed--we've grown. I don't care. I still feel the same."

Bucky smiles. "You don't care that I can't be him?"

"I just want you to be you... _My Bucky."_

And God, if that doesn't have the sweetest fucking ring to it.

Bucky thinks he could cry. Steve looks about the same. "Then can you be my Steve?"

“...I was never anything but. I could never be anyone else, Buck.”

“Then you still love me…” Bucky pleads.

“Never stopped. I always will. If you want me, if you need me, I’m here. I’m all yours, Bucky. To the end of the line," Steve swears, brushing his thumbs gingerly over Bucky's cheekbones.

Bucky shakes his head lightly. “This line never ends… I... I _love_ you," he breathes, and Bucky knows with every fiber of his soul that, with those words, he is free. He's _free._ So he says it again. "I love you, Steve. Steve, I love you so much.”

“Can I kiss you?” Steve husks, and it's downright close to begging.

“Never ask again.”

So Steve commits to memory, before pulling Bucky's face closer while melding their bodies together so he can claim the lips that he's missed.

And oh, _fuck,_ has he missed this.

Bucky's lips are soft, the tiniest scrape from a split in the pillow of his bottom lip tasting of iron when Steve's tongue darts out to trace the seam.

Bucky heaves against him, releasing Steve's wrists to cling to his neck, metal fingers tugging at his sweater, flesh scraping nails against his nape. It's like all the threads have been cut, all Bucky's world dropped, suspended, weightless yet sinking as he falls apart under Steve's lips.

Something shimmies under his skin, like splinters or tiny pieces of glass. Bucky can’t pinpoint why, but it’s not entirely unpleasant. As a matter of fact, the opposite. It feels like something coming together.

The kiss is chaste, warm and timid and soft, so very like summer, so much like Steve.

Bucky sighs. "You can gimme a little oomph, Rogers," he teases

Steve pulls back, eyes half lidded and mouth already flushed. Though Bucky’s shaking, he’s smiling,too, and he seems to be able to sass Steve, even with his control hanging on by this thin thread.

"Been almost a century since I been kissed," Bucky reminds him.

And Steve smiles, wrapping one arm around Bucky's waist and hugging him snugly to his frame. "I'll make sure you never go another _day_ without this," he vows, and he looks at Bucky like he's just stumbled upon some greater truth to the universe. "I love you, Bucky."

Bucky wants to laugh, make a snide comment about how blushy Steve gets when he uses the "L Word". Some things don't change, even a century later. But he's too fucking overwhelmed by the way those words awaken his heart, set fire to his blood, and completely ruin and rebuild him spontaneously.

Unable to reply, he just kisses Steve again, deeper this time, rougher.

Bucky moans wantonly against Steve's lips, and Steve pants wetly against Bucky's open mouth. It’s a kiss that crosses decades and closes gaps, a kiss to make up for all the kisses between their rise, fall, and reunion.

When Bucky growls and reaches between them to palm Steve's crotch, Steve breaks off with a heady moan.

“Buck, _Bucky_ , wait--”

“Don’t you start with me, Rogers. I’ve waited long enough--”Bucky retorts sharply, nipping Steve’s mouth as he tears down his zipper.

Steve catches his hands and laughs. “Bucky, we’re filthy. I can’t consciously put my hands on you while I’m like this. I've got _blood_ under my nails.”

“Then how ‘bout _I_ just put my mouth on _you?_ ” A tempting offer indeed, especially with Bucky panting into Steve’s ear, struggling experimentally against the hands holding him.

Steve gives a full-body shudder. “Please, for me. I want to give you this, but I wanna take care of you, too,” he pulls back, trusting Bucky enough to let his hands go in order to cup his cheeks again. “I… I _have_ to take care of you, Bucky. It’s not a question for me, okay? I need you to understand that…”

Bucky turns Steve’s face towards him with his nose, and kisses him softly again. “Okay, _okay_ , baby doll. Let’s get clean, first,” he relents, mostly because of Steve’s incredible ability to get whatever the fuck he wants out of Bucky whenever the fuck he wants it.

Steve licks his mouth open, cupping the back of Bucky’s neck in one hand and the small of his back in the other. “Whatever you need tonight, I promise, it’s yours,” Steve whispers when he’s had his fill of tasting Bucky’s lips and tongue.

It leaves Bucky breathless immediately, and he fists Steve’s sweater in his hand and yanks on it desperately. “Just you. I just need you, baby.”

Steve groans heavily in his throat, pressing his forehead roughly against Bucky’s, squeezing his eyes shut. “ _God_ , I missed that.”

Taking in the blush darkening along Steve’s throat and cheeks, Bucky snickers. “Yeah? My pretty baby doll always had a thing for pet names,” he rushes, and it feels strange and familiar. It’s like spun sugar on Bucky’s tongue, the words second nature on his lips, and still, a part of him feels terribly stupid for it.

But Steve seems to love it, and so Bucky sighs against his cheek, “You’re gonna be good to me, huh, baby? Treat me right? Always been sweet as sugar to me.”

Bucky finds his back against the wall beside the TV in an instant, and for a split second, panic courses through him, his hand curved around the base of Steve’s throat in a knee-jerk reaction.

But Steve’s just kissing him again, even arching his bare throat into the contact with a desperate sound. He's moaning into Bucky’s mouth hotly, tongue searching deeper, hands gripping Bucky tight enough to bruise.

“Shower first, damn you.”

“Come with me,” Bucky pleads, brushing his thumb against Steve’s throat, watching the way those baby blues shut as Steve’s mouth parts on a whisper of a groan. “Can’t lose this. I need you; every second I can get.”

Without hesitation, Steve nods, and he kisses Bucky stupid as he backs them up into the small box of the bathroom. The kiss is broken to flick on the dark yellow lights in the bathroom and for Steve to turn the hot water on to full blast.

The pipes creak, and then the showerhead releases a burst of water with impressive pressure.

“Wow,” Bucky muses, watching as the water quickly grows steamy, splashing against the porcelain tub.

Steve adjusts the taps and flicks his hand through the stream a few times. “That should be good. If nothing else, this place has amazing plumbing.”

Bucky just laughs.

Steve strips down to his briefs quickly, kicking out of his shoes and tearing his hoodie and shirt over his head in one fluid motion. His pants get tossed somewhere in his haste. "Undress. I'll get the shower kit from my sack," he says heavily before stepping out of the bathroom to gather up the bottles of soaps. There are towels in the bathroom, coarse and clean, if nothing else, thank god.

Steve’s heart is beating thunderously in his throat, but when he gets back into the bathroom, Bucky's still fully dressed, staring at the spray of water hitting the white ceramic.

“Buck?”

He looks up at Steve, only focusing on his face for a second before his eyes travel slow and hot down the length of his bare flesh.

Steve would shrink back under anyone else’s scrutiny, especially so closely. But this is Bucky… _His_ Bucky. Steve’s only ever felt beautiful and worthy of such attention when it was coming from those gray eyes. So he relishes the feel of Bucky’s eyes raking back up his legs, lingering on his navel, his chest, burning holes in Steve’s sanity and frying his nerves.

“...You’re so fucking beautiful, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, and he turns his face away and wraps his arms around himself. “Maybe this was a bad idea…”

Steve steps in behind him, setting the bottles on the edge of the tub before curling his fingers gently around Bucky’s hips. “Bucky, baby, no…” he kisses the back of his neck beneath the ponytail. Bucky shudders, and Steve reaches around to pinch the tag of his sweater zipper. The teeth break apart slowly, and Bucky’s breathing hitches as they go. Steve shrugs his sweater to the floor, brushes his hands across Bucky’s broad shoulders through his thin t-shirt. He presses his nose to the nape of Bucky’s neck and breathes, sliding his hands under the hem to palm his waist and hips. “If you want me to stop--”

“ _Please don’t_ ,” Bucky whispers, left hand curling around one of Steve’s wrists, the other flying out to catch the wall, steadying himself.

So Steve doesn’t.

He grips the hem of Bucky’s shirt and slides it up the length of his torso, waiting for Bucky to lift his arms to pull it over his head.

Almost instantly, Bucky drops his arms and hugs himself again, ducking his chin down against his chest.

“Ah-ah,” Steve scolds, taking Bucky’s hands and unfolding his arms, lifting them so Bucky has to grip at the back of Steve’s neck with his right and Steve’s hip with his left to keep from collapsing to the floor.

“ _Steve_ ,” he sighs, and arches into Steve’s touch. It’s the first touch he’s had in years that hasn’t hurt, the first touch that makes him feel everything all at once. There are hands that aren’t his brushing from his arms to his chest, Steve’s hot, hard chest pressed smooth against his back. .…

And lips kissing the seam where metal meets flesh on his shoulder.

Bucky feels like he’s going to collapse into darkness, his heart beating so hard it may as well break his ribs and climb up his throat and run the fuck away. His eyes burn, and he feels like screaming. He thinks he’s choking.

“You’re gorgeous, Bucky… Always have been,” Steve whispers against the curve of his neck where Bucky’s bared his flesh with complete trust.

“Steve, _Steve_ ,” he whimpers hotly, thrusting his fingers through Steve’s hair and pulling hard enough to hurt.

Steve laves his tongue against the knotted scar tissue of Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky’s knees give out with a wet moan. He’s caught by strong arms wrapping securely around him, and Steve doesn’t let go until Bucky finds some feeling in his legs again.

“I’ve got you,” Steve whispers, pressing one hand flat to Bucky’s stomach, his abs quivering angrily under the touch. “I’m here.”

“Please,” Bucky pants, and he’s not entirely sure what he’s asking for at this point.

But Steve knows. He’s always known.

He nips and kisses at the joining of metal and flesh more, his free hand scratching at Bucky’s collarbones before sliding over his chest. He thumbs at one of Bucky’s nipples before pinching it sharply.

Bucky chokes off a whine, biting his lip and gripping Steve’s hip with bruising force beneath his metal fingers. When he realizes it, he relents his grip and tries to pull his hand away from Steve. “I’m sor--”

“Don’t,” Steve says sharply, and rolls Bucky’s nipple between thumb and forefinger while he licks a hot, filthy wet stripe up his throat. He switches to the neglected nub, letting it pearl up under his attention before pinching and pulling it as well. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Stevie, but--”

“You won’t hurt me. Trust me, Bucky. I thought we had to trust each other,” Steve groans, and he presses the hand on Bucky’s waist hard, forcing his back to arch and bring their hips together. “Just trust me. Like old times, just… A little different.”

Bucky can’t swallow the moan that rips from his throat at the feel of Steve’s cock pressing hard and insistent to the crease of his ass, and suddenly, there’s way too much clothing between them.

The bathroom is so fucking steamy now--Bucky swears he can’t breathe. He grips Steve’s hip again, because he _does_ trust him, more than he trusts himself. Steve would say something if it hurt. And Bucky can’t be worried about this forever. The arm is part of him.

And Steve loves all of him.

“Just me and you--nothin’ else, yeah?”

Bucky groans, dropping his head back against Steve’s shoulder. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” Steve says without question.

Closing his eyes, Bucky spins slowly in Steve’s embrace, stopping once their bare chests are touching, lying his hands--steel and sinew--against Steve’s chest. He can feel the thunderous beat of Steve’s heart, the heavy rise and fall of his breaths, and he can feel those blue, blue eyes burning holes through his skin.

When he opens his eyes, Bucky comes face to face with Steve Rogers and his ageless, immutable beauty. And he’s looking at Bucky like he’s the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.

Fingertips touch the line of his scar, and Bucky stifles a whimper. “Incredible…” Steve whispers, smoothing his palms over Bucky’s shoulders, down to the small of his back. He raises goose bumps in the wake of his touch,  Bucky pressing himself against Steve like a cat curling into sunshine.

“What is?” Bucky sighs, closing his eyes as Steve continues to touch him slowly, fingertips stroking Bucky’s ribs, the undersides of his arms, before he cups Bucky’s face in his hands again.

“You. You, James Barnes,” Steve whispers, and his eyes dance from Bucky’s lips down his throat, chest, waist, to where their hips are touched together.

“Can it, you punk,” Bucky huffs, shaking his head.

Steve laughs, claiming Bucky’s mouth as a diversion to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

Bucky mewls.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, baby,” Steve whispers, pulling back to kiss along Bucky’s throat, collarbones, and chest. He pays more attention--special, delicate, loving attention--to the raised cicatrice, the bitten down metal. He kisses Bucky’s scar as he opens his pants, and then he kisses down the hard valley of his stomach as he sinks to his knees.

A desperate sound rips itself from Bucky’s chest and he tilts his head down and stares at Steve through glassy eyes, hands gripping those broad shoulders for balance as Steve presses a kiss to one iliac furrow, then the next. Then Steve looks up at Bucky and deliberately, _slow as sin_ , licks the flesh right in the middle.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bucky hisses.

“You taste like sweat and blood,” Steve remarks, nuzzling his forehead against Bucky’s hard cock through his jeans as he unlaces his boots.

“That’s fuckin’ gross.”

“It’s kinda doin’ it for me,” Steve chuckles in response.

Bucky kicks his boots off and watches as Steve drags his jeans down around his ankles, kissing his cock through his boxers. It almost drops Bucky’s ass to the ground as he’s trying to step out of his torn jeans. Instead of letting the deep effect show, he replies snidely, “ _You’re_ gross, Rogers.”

“That’s why we’re showering; to purify me.”

“Amen,” Bucky snickers, but his mind immediately goes black when Steve slides his slender fingers teasingly into the waistline of his boxers. His eyes fall shut and his head tips back, the whole room a foggy haze when he looks at the ceiling.

“You sure?” Steve whispers, breath hot and damp against Bucky’s cock.

He nods, lost for words.

He holds his breath when Steve slides his boxers down, feels his cock spring up, leaking. Steve’s sharp intake of breath has Bucky’s stomach doing somersaults, and his blood is rushing in his ears.

“Fuck…” Steve sighs, barely above a whisper, and his fingertips are brushing the sensitive flesh just beside the base of Bucky’s cock. “Just like I remembered you.”

“Steve!” And Bucky can't look down, he just can't, because he'll come face to face with Steve Rogers staring at his cock like a starved man looking at a banquet table.

“Get in the shower. I wanna taste you--the _real_ you, under all this,” at that, Steve touches a scrape on Bucky’s side where blood has welled and dried, and Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice.

He nods and takes Steve’s chin in his hand, urging him to rise for a kiss. Steve takes that time to reach over Bucky’s shoulder and tug the elastic ribbon free of his hair, popping it over his hand and around his wrist so he can card his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

Bucky whimpers. “I can cut it. I’ve been thinking of--”

Steve tangles his fingers into the thick length of absurdly soft waves and _yanks_. Bucky yelps, his throat bared for Steve’s teeth to scrape against.

“Don’t,” Steve pleads. “Please don’t. I mean, if you wanna, you can. You’re your own man, Buck. But…” Steve sighs against his throat,then releases his hold on Bucky’s hair so he can press their foreheads together. His fingers rake through the silky tresses, Bucky shivering as the length brushes his shoulders. “I love it. It’s beautiful… I wanna run my fingers through it.”

“Well… When you put it like that,” Bucky laughs and pulls away from Steve’s grasp, trying to appear collected and calm as he climbs into the shower. _Fuck_ , it’s warm, and it feels immediately like heaven. He’s soaked in seconds, hair dripping into his face, and he turns and gives Steve a dangerously suggestive smile.

Steve’s frozen in his tracks by that look--that fucking playful, sinful _smirk_ \--because he hasn’t seen it since the 1940s. That look is Bucky fucking Barnes.

“Come ‘ere, Rogers,” Bucky husks, and Steve shucks off his briefs with a groan, rising to the challenge in that Captain America fashion.

Bucky’s eyes are immediately on his cock, and Steve’s eyes follow that focal point on Bucky’s own body as well.

They’re both sporting impressive erections for having shared just a few kisses, but it never did take much to get both of them going. Steve’s cock is sticking up, the head the most gorgeous flush of red, and it’s fucking leaking down the length. While pre-serum Steve’s cock had been a decent mouthful on its own, the serum had made it God’s gift to Bucky Barnes. It belonged to Bucky and Bucky alone, and being reminded of that simple fact by having it stare at him in a steamy bathroom in a Canada hotel has all the screws in Bucky’s mind twisting loose.

Bucky’s own cock twitches, a spark of delight that makes his balls tight.

“ _Sweet fuckin’ heaven,_ I used to fit that whole thing in my _mouth_?” Bucky moans, and when he looks up at Steve, those baby blues are still greedily locked to Bucky’s cock.

“Oh, Buck…” Steve groans, and he’s stepping over to the tub with predatory motion, his mouth hanging open as he freely gapes at Bucky’s naked body. “You did. You fuckin’ _loved_ it,” Steve growls, stepping in close and gripping Bucky’s hip and shoulder in his hands, shoving him against the tiles and taking his wet mouth with a demanding kiss. When Bucky thinks he’s going to die and go to heaven, Steve pulls back, staring at Bucky’s mouth as the showerhead sprays them both like fiery rainfall. “Fit it in more than just your _mouth_ , too.”

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky groans, arching his hips,desperate to have his cock sliding against Steve’s.

“Ah-ah,” Steve says for the second time that night, and Bucky immediately stills and goes lax against the tiles, biting his lip desperately. “I promise we’ll get to that. Whatever you need.”

Bucky nods, and then lets Steve position him under the spray.

The washing is meticulous and taunting, with Steve's hands kneading Bucky's flesh, fingers working suds through Bucky's thick hair. He takes his time lathering Bucky up, touching every muscle, kissing every scratch. When he drops to his knees to wash Bucky's legs, Steve lets Bucky's hard cock rest against his cheek, smiling dreamy and reverent like a little fucking shit.

He doesn't even make a move to lick it, but when Bucky whines, he nuzzles his face against it like a cat and promises, _promises,_ soon.

While the conditioner sits, Steve makes Bucky stand under the waterfall to stay warm while he scrubs himself down with much more methodical motions.

That makes Bucky a little crazy, wishing he could touch Steve the way he'd just been touched. But he's been told to stand still, so he leans against the tiled wall, lets the water beat down his shoulder, and watches his fill. All that sinew stretched tight under Steve's unblemished flesh has his mouth watering, his fingers aching to brush and bruise. Steve's fucking art if Bucky's ever seen it.

When Steve is done, he beckons Bucky forward and slowly, teasingly works the conditioner out of his hair.

He faces Bucky away from him, instructing him to put his forearms against the wall, ducking his head under the hot rush of water. It forces Bucky’s ass out, and he has to spread his legs to stay balanced.

When Steve settles in behind him, there’s a tiny press of soapy fingers at Bucky’s hips. Like a warning, another question only Bucky can answer.

He blinks the water out of his eyes and trembles. “Please. Please touch me.”

Steve’s cock settles between Bucky’s ass cheeks, and he sucks in a sharp breath when Steve presses their pelvises snugly together. His hands bracket Bucky’s hips, his mouth kissing his shoulder blades beneath the shower of water, and Bucky wishes he could see Steve’s face right now.

“I’m gonna take care of you, Bucky,” Steve whispers, and Bucky nods, spreading his legs until his feet are planted against the curved walls of the tub. His cock bobs between his thighs at the motion, and when one of Steve’s hands touches his quivering stomach, slides lower, lower…

Bucky nearly faints.

Steve’s soapy fingers play lightly over the well-groomed thatch of dark hair at the base of Bucky’s cock before one slender digit strokes from the tip back down. Steve curls his fingers lightly, stroking Bucky’s balls before he’s tracing a feather-light touch back to Bucky’s leaking head.

The splinters bite and press, shifting and aching as if they were fragments of Bucky’s bone trying to rise to the surface. He bites his lip sharply, paying close attention to the tingles riding across his scalp, down his back.

It’s fucking maddening, and Bucky whines to prove so, pressing his fists against the shower tiles as he straightens just enough to force Steve forward. There’s more contact this way, with Steve’s stomach against the small of Bucky’s back, his chin resting on Bucky’s shoulder.

Kissing Bucky’s damp temple through the curtain of his hair, Steve wraps his fingers around Bucky’s cock and gives it the first solid pump it’s had in decades.

It’s a miracle Bucky doesn’t shoot off right then, and even more miraculous he stifles his shriek before he can deafen Steve. It comes out like a dying breath, a choking wheeze.

“Good?” Steve asks, genuine and soft.

“ _Yes_.”

“More?”

“ _Please_ …”

Steve jacks him slow and wet, sliding his other hand over Bucky's shoulders, playing with his hair. He touches him as much as he possibly can,  never relenting the punishing, slow pace he's set with his fist squeezing Bucky's cock.

He twists his wrist lightly on the upstroke, brushes his thumb against the glans just beneath the head. He tickles his fingers over the thick vein on the underside like he knows Bucky loves, and he's rewarded with heavy breaths and soft mewls. Then he brushes his fingers over the crease of Bucky's ass and sighs.

"Gotta clean you here, too," he grates out, and Bucky's back bows, head tipping back until the spray hits his face.

"God, please."

Steve presses his fingers between the crease of Bucky’s ass, then brushes one soapy digit firmly against the tight furl of muscle between the cheeks.

Bucky sucks in a wet, shuddering breath, arching up against the touch.

Steve hesitates. There's a question pooling cold and sticky in his gut, and he tastes it in the back of his throat. It makes him nauseous, starts to heat him with rage. "Bucky... Nobody ever... I mean--did anyone try--"

"Did any of those Hydra fucks get their hands on me like this?" Bucky growls, but there's no venom in his tone. Only lust. "Never. Not a fuckin' one."

Steve kisses along Bucky's shoulder, releasing a heavy sigh of relief.

"I mean, they tried... A few of 'em got close--they wanted me bad," Bucky continues, moaning as Steve strokes him with a sinful focus.

"How'd that go?"

Bucky snarls like a caged dog and pushes his hips back against Steve, that slippery finger catching on his rim before dragging down his perineum with intense pressure.

"They were eliminated quickly and painfully," Bucky sighs. "Except for Rumlow."

At that, Steve nods. Rumlow is one of the few Hydra agents who has continued to elude their hunt. Sam said he died in the collapse, but Bucky said otherwise.

“Remembering made me nauseous, but knowing I never let ‘em get me… It made me feel better, too.”

“I’m so sorry, Buck. If we ever see him again, I’ll split his skull.”

Bucky snickers. "Sounds a little dark for you.” He groans when Steve brushes against his hole again.

“I’ll show you dark.”

“Show me then--split Rumlow’s skull for me. He was the worst. Had to bite a chunk outta him to show him I meant business. He tried to get me up against a wall, once on a mission. Started touching me and kissing on me," he snarls. "I put a knife in his rib and tore part of his shoulder out with my teeth."

Steve moans hotly, both in rage and satisfaction. Pride swells in his chest over Bucky's defiance, and he's washed through with a heady desire to cut Rumlow into ribbons and bones when he finally finds him.

"Jesus, good boy, Buck," he groans.

Bucky wheezes, the praise making his dick jump. "Don't be too proud. That was after I'd forgotten you... Forgotten _me,"_ Bucky whispers, then turns his head and catches Steve's chin with his fingertips, bringing their lips close enough to kiss but not quite touching. "But I remembered I _belonged_. I was already _owned_ by someone else. They made me a dog, made me a weapon; they unmade James Barnes," Bucky says softly, pressing his face against Steve's tightly. He whispers against the corner of his mouth, "But they couldn't unmake _your Bucky..._ "

Steve's eyes widen, his heart going from a strong sprint to a sudden stop against his ribs. There's no air in his lungs, no frame to his vision--just Bucky, Bucky, _Bucky..._

And he loves him so fucking much. He's missed this like no one could ever understand. And somehow, with Bucky in his grasp, staring at Steve like a dazed, lost animal...

It makes Steve miss him more than ever. And that he can't explain. He just knows he needs to fill the void, cross the gap, and show Bucky that his words have struck deeper than flesh and blood, all the way to Steve's soul.

He can't reply with words; none could justify how Bucky's own had made him feel. So he presses forward and claims Bucky's lips, gently at first, then overcome with desperation. Their mouths open for a synchronized gasp, and then their tongues are beating together, tasting one another and the sweet, hot water from the shower.

Steve's fist squeezes at the base of Bucky's dick, his other hand curving against his ass with one fingertip rooted snugly at Bucky's entrance.

He presses for but a moment before sliding his slick finger into Bucky to the second knuckle, curling it expertly as Bucky keens into his mouth in delight.

It only lasts for a moment before Bucky tears his mouth away to cry out his ecstasy as Steve’s finger presses in against his nerves with maddening weight. It’s so familiar, so fucking _good_ , and Bucky’s entire body is pulled tight as a bowstring and every nerve is like a lightning rod.

“Stevie, _Stevie,_ more, please, please-- _God_. Steve, _fuck me_ ,” Bucky growls zealously, bucking himself back against Steve’s hand. “Fuck me now, _now,_ god, Steve--feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Buck…”Steve just pants breathlessly, thrusting his finger and curling it at the same time. The noise it elicits from Bucky makes Steve’s cock leak, and he groans and presses his forehead against Bucky’s shoulder. He remembers the way it feels to be buried to the hilt in Bucky’s tight ass, that velvet heat milking him for hours. He has to resist coming right then, just from having his finger inside of Bucky. Releasing a small noise of desperation, Steve twists his hand and presses his fingertip against Bucky’s prostate.

Bucky’s knees nearly give out, and he slams his left fist against the wall so hard the tiles crack. “ _Fuck!_ ”

“So impatient.”

“Please, please just give me what I want!”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve scolds, and he slips his finger out to tease at Bucky’s rim, water running down his face in rivulets that blur his view of Bucky’s flawless back. He stops stroking Bucky’s cock in order to cup his chin and turn his head until their noses touch. “I promised to take care of you.”

“Steve, I can take it--”

“I don’t doubt you can. But you haven’t been touched this way in a very long time. Your body--”

“I’ll fuckin’ heal!” Bucky snaps, trying to tug his face out of Steve’s grip.

The water’s starting to cool down, and Bucky’s desperate for this, needs Steve more than he needs his next fucking breath.

“Hey,” Steve scolds softly, hugging Bucky into his arms and kissing along his shoulders and neck. “You promised to let me take care of you… Bucky, I need this, too,” Steve whispers against Bucky’s soaked hair, pressing his face to the nape of his neck. “I… As bad as you want me to just hurry up and fuck you boneless, that ain’t gonna happen. I’m gonna do this right. We never rushed in the past--not once.”

“That was the past,” Bucky wheezes.

“And you said you needed me to be like that old Steve. Gotta do this just like old times.”

“You’re fuckin’ killin’ me. This isn’t what I want,” Bucky keens, rocking against the intrusion inside of him, the burn diminishing to a pure ache that has Bucky’s stomach churning with liquid fire. Then it’s gone as soon as it came, and Bucky whines at the loss and the way it makes his head spin.

“I know what you need, Buck. You know that feeling in your chest--you want me to take you so badly right now? That’s how badly I need to take care of you,” Steve explains, and he manages to slowly but surely spin Bucky’s reluctant body around so that they’re eye to eye. “Can you understand that?” Steve whispers, stepping in close so their cocks touch, rub up against each other’s bellies.

Bucky mewls, then rises up to meet Steve in a scouring kiss.

“I understand,” he groans against those perfect lips. “But I need you, Steve. I feel like I’m dying.”

“I won’t let you die. Never letting you go again,” Steve laughs warmly, then he’s kissing Bucky deeper. Their cocks are slotted together between their stomachs, and Bucky feels like he might come from the overstimulation.

Then Steve’s mouth is leaving his, and he’s being bowed backwards so Steve can reach the knobs to turn the shower off. The taps squeak, and Bucky feels suddenly naked without the water splashing all over him.

Steve laughs, kissing along Bucky’s shoulders. “Grab a towel?”

Bucky gasps, jolted into reality as Steve runs damp hands down his arms and continues kissing his shoulders. “Huh?”

“Towel, babe,” Steve sighs.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, then leans out of the tub and grabs the towels off the rack. They smell like vanilla and grass, an odd combination that makes Bucky oddly relaxed when Steve presses the towel to his face.

Steve’s drying him like he might dry a dog, fluffing the towel over Bucky’s hair, roughly scrubbing it down his body.

“Ste-St-Steve!” Bucky exclaims when Steve returns from kneeling to dry his legs, deciding he should give Bucky’s hair another go.

“Gotta make sure you’re dry, Buck,” Steve says, and Bucky can barely hear it over the muffled sound of plush cotton and hair fighting atop his head.

Bucky takes his opportunity when it arises, and when Steve leans back to survey his work, Bucky takes the second towel and wraps it around Steve’s head. He scrubs the towel vigorously against Steve’s scalp, and he can hear him scream through the material.

“Gotta make sure you’re dry, Stevie,” Bucky teases, and then he leans forward, slips the towel down, and kisses Steve’s laughing lips.

It means so much to Bucky, to _both_ of them _,_ that they can laugh like this. Back before the ice, before Hydra, they used to tease and play and laugh together, even when they were rutting under the sheets like animals. Bucky could pull a laugh from Steve’s parted lips mid thrust, and Steve could do the same. This feels like floating, and even though Bucky’s dick is throbbing between his legs, hearing Steve laugh, feeling those hands paw at him desperately as he ruffles Steve up…

It’s beautiful.

Bucky dries Steve’s torso and arms while they kiss, and when his hand brushes Steve’s cock, he’s reminded of what he’s been promised. He sucks in a violent breath, then bites Steve’s lip.

“ _Yes_ ,” Steve wheezes, and Bucky nods enthusiastically before he curls his flesh and blood fingers around Steve’s cock and pumps.

Steve groans hotly against his mouth, and Bucky feels a spur of heat spin tight in his gut.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he pants, dropping his forehead against Steve’s shoulder as Steve grips his hips and holds him close. Steve grips onto him and fucks into Bucky’s fist with little finesse, as if his control had cracked severely. Bucky pants against his chest, his fingers growing slippery from Steve’s precum, his gut coiling with riotous heat at the memories touching the forefront of his mind.

“I think you’re dry enough,” Steve murmurs against Bucky’s shoulder, hips stuttering.

“Yeah,” is the reply Steve gets before Bucky squeezes his cock again. He stifles a moan in the curve of Bucky’s throat. “Oh god, Steve.”

“Bed,” Steve grinds out, claiming Bucky’s mouth, and then they’re stumbling out of the tub and into the bedroom.

Steve touches every inch of Bucky that he can reach. His desperate, grabby hands paw over Bucky’s sides and waist, squeeze his ass and knead his shoulders, touch his arms, both flesh and metal, as if starved...

Bucky couldn’t be happier, arms wrapped around Steve’s neck as he blindly walks backwards. When his knees his the edge of the bed he falls back onto the mattress, and Steve doesn’t follow.

“Steve,” he calls, reaching both hands out for him, hair a dark halo against the honey beige of the comforters. He's mesmerizing, and Steve has to catch his breath. The sharp contrast of silver metal against Bucky's sun-kissed skin is sinful, the dark thatch of hair above his stiff, leaking cock making it hard to focus. And of course, there's Bucky's flushed face, his quivering abs, the picture of him as a whole something no mortal eyes deserve to see.

Steve backs up a few steps, lifts his hands and rakes his fingers through his wildly feathered hair. The gold is mussed and brilliant against the light of the lamp flicked on behind him. Bucky thinks he looks like a fucking angel.

“Steve…” He pleads again.

Licking his lips, Steve turns away and goes to rummage through his rucksack, his back all Bucky can see from where he’s lying. When Steve stands up again, he has a bottle and a box, and he’s blushing.

Bucky’s stomach twists up, that coiled heat intensifying, and he smirks slowly. He shimmies up the bed until his feet are barely dangling, then leans up on his elbows and rakes his gaze up Steve’s body. “Been thinkin’ of this for a while, Stevie?”

“Never hurts to be prepared… And yes,” Steve retorts as he climbs onto the bed, and Bucky takes the box of condoms from his hand and drops it over the side of the bed.

“Don’t need those.”

“Buck--”

“You’re clean. Can’t catch anything with the serum, yeah? Same goes for me,” Bucky says, heartrate jacking up as Steve crawls over him, his body heat scorching.

“You’re sure about that? Not that you’re clean, I mean. You want it this way?” Steve whispers, hands on either side of Bucky's head as Bucky laces his fingers together at the nape of his neck.

Bucky nods. “Like old times.”

Steve laughs breathlessly before he lays himself down seamlessly over Bucky and presses their mouths together. The kiss is slow, teasing in a way, the drag and swipe of tongues slowly eliciting moans from both participants.

Bucky feels drugged. He feels heavy and static, and the only places where he feels real is where Steve is touching him. The front of his body is hot, his cock throbbing with an erratic heartbeat where it’s slotted against Steve’s. His mouth is a live firework of activity, his ribs and scalp sparking where Steve’s fingers touch.

“Anything you want, just ask. I’m not movin’ again until you tell me what you want,” Steve says, kissing Bucky’s stubbled jaw, the wild thump of his pulse in his throat.

Bucky groans. “How am I supposed to think? What do you want me to say?”

“Be specific,” Steve says, rocking his hips forward. It drags their dicks against each other and Bucky hisses when Steve licks his throat. “Tell me where you want my mouth, my hands, what you wanna do to me. I told you, I’d give you anything you wanted.”

Bucky’s instantly overwhelmed, because he wants so much from Steve right now. He wants to get his mouth on Steve’s prick, the weight and maddening heat of it making his head spin. He wants _Steve’s_ mouth on _his_ dick, cause christ in heaven, nobody could suck dick better than Steve.

“I… I wa-- _ah_ ,” Bucky keens when Steve bites his neck then laves his tongue on the stinging mark.

Bucky’s hands fly up, pawing at Steve’s shoulder and the back of his head. “I… I want you to touch me. Please!”

“Where? How?”

“ _Ahn_ , keep doin’ that,” Bucky sighs, metal fingers curving around Steve’s hip as he arches against him. It forces the friction of their cocks to intensify, and Bucky’s breath hitches.

“What else, baby? What else can I do?” Steve sighs, and Bucky wants to _kill him_ , he sounds so level-headed.

“Want… Your mouth.”

“Where?”

“Down. Move lower,” Bucky huffs.

“Won’t be able to keep doin’ _this_ though,” Steve remarks, grinding his hips down against Bucky’s, leaking precum all over their dicks.

“Don’t care,” Bucky replies, tangling his flesh fingers into Steve’s hair. “Want you to kiss me. Want your mouth on me, _please_ ,” he whines, and Steve shushes him with a kiss.

“Okay, Buck. Alright. Let me take care of you,” Steve whispers, and then he’s kissing down Bucky’s jaw, his throat, laving his collar bones, his shoulders. Steve moves down the hard plain of his chest, laps at his nipples before suckling and biting them, using his thumb and forefinger to dote upon the other so Bucky doesn’t feel neglected.

And Bucky turns his head to the side and whimpers, grips the blankets above his head and groans as Steve alternates between punishing nips of teeth and then tender brushes of the lips. All the while his free hand touches Bucky’s side, runs down to grip his hip, teases the inside of his thigh.

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky husks, and when Steve kisses down the deep crease between his abs and licks up his ribs, his hips kick up.

“Easy,” Steve scolds with a laugh, brushing his lips across Bucky’s ribs to the other side so he can lick down those ribs as well.

Bucky stifles a whimper and tangles his hand into his own hair.

Kisses fall upon his hips, a tongue dipping into his navel, and Bucky’s hips buck again.

Steve laughs. “You okay?”

“Suck me,” Bucky keens, fisting his hands in the sheets. He stares up at the ceiling, watching with acute focus until shadows tint the edges of his vision.

“Huh?”

“Suck my cock, Stevie, please. Wanna feel your mouth on me, I gotta--”

Before Bucky can finish that statement, a hand grips the base of his dick, warm lips are wrapped around the head of his cock, sliding down, then Steve’s hollowing his cheeks and pulling off with a suck. He moans around Bucky's dick.

Bucky screams, a choked off sound that rips out of him as the entire upper half of his body lifts off the bed. He cranes his neck, panting open mouthed as he watches Steve suck him down again.

It’s unlike anything he’s ever felt, so much more vivid and colorful than memory serves.

Steve’s brows are furrowed, his lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, his lips already a brilliant shade of red. He’s bobbing his head on Bucky’s cock like he’s starved for it, like he needs it to live. And he’s making these filthy sounds. They’re deep in his throat, groans that are curved around the head of Bucky’s dick when he takes him deeper, and when he moves his hand to grip Bucky by both hips so he can deep throat him, the groans vibrate around Bucky’s cock. Once Bucky’s hips stay still of their own accord, Steve curves his hand around Bucky’s balls and squeezes, palming them with his warm, calloused fingers.

Bucky tries so hard not to buck up, his arms shaking from propping himself up for a good view, and his resolve is like steel as he watches Steve wantonly choke himself on his dick. Bucky’s mouth hangs open, his stomach flaring with heat, chest heaving, and he can’t believe he hasn’t come.

Steve pulls off his cock gasping, taking the base in his fist to tilt Bucky’s dick towards his belly so he can lap at the thick vein on the underside. He suckles the head, presses his tongue to the slit, slurps up the drops of precum. All the while his eyes are glassy and his lids drooped, and when he looks up at Bucky and moans whorishly with the flat of his tongue against his head, Bucky chokes out an obscene sound and flops back down on the bed.

He tangles his hands in Steve’s hair and guides him back down his cock, moaning and whimpering with each suck. He can’t stop the sounds falling from his lips, throaty gasps pulled from his ribs, his toes curling as he digs his heels into the bed.

“Missed you,” Bucky whimpers, and Steve pulls off to hum in questioning, giving Bucky’s cockhead a nearly cruel suck. Bucky cries out, “ _Ah, fuck_ , I missed your mouth.”

“Tell me what you want, Bucky,” Steve mouths against the length of Bucky’s cock, kissing from base to tip before taking him into the back of his throat again.

Thank god Steve never had a gag reflex. All that cough medicine as a kid must have made him immune to gagging, because when Bucky fucks up into his mouth, he just moans.

“I wanna taste you, _fuck, please_ , lemme taste you. I want you in my mouth, oh fuck, oh _god_ , Steve I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-- _ah!_ ” Steve pulls back, wiping his mouth on his arm as he watches Bucky’s entire body shudder.

Bucky’s eyes fly open, the ceiling spinning and glowing above him,and his stomach plummets through wave after wave of heat that kicks the breath into his throat and traps it there.

But he doesn’t come.

He came so close so fast, he’s surprised he even had the energy or wherewithal to tell Steve at all! But then it’s gone as quickly as it came, the brilliant white glow of orgasm falling out of his reach as he’s dragged back from the precipice of pleasure.

He crashes down with a desperate, frustrated wheeze, mouth falling open as he draws a breath that fills his whole chest, hands yanking the blankets up around his body as he crosses one arm over his stomach and presses his metal fist to his face.

“ _Fuck…_ ” He whispers in a tinny voice.

Steve laughs, then kisses the tip of Bucky’s dick.

It jumps. Bucky curses.

When Bucky catches his breath, blinks the white flickers of light from his vision, he’s startled to find Steve has crawled up his body and has come up to straddle his chest.

“Climb up a bit,” Steve instructs.

Bucky’s tender cock jumps in anticipation, and _fuck_ , it hurts so sweet.

Bucky does as he’s told, shimmying up the bed so he’s sitting up a bit, and his mouth comes level to Steve’s dick with ease.

It’s like a piece of fucking art--just like the rest of Steve. The fine hairs at the base are dark gold, and they’ve always been sinfully soft in Bucky’s opinion. Steve’s got such incredible length and girth, his head leaking pearly fluid that Bucky thinks looks like liquid sugar. He’s fucking amazing. Unreal.

And Bucky’s tongue darts out before his brain can stop it to lap up the pearly mess, and Steve bows over him, gripping the headboard with a hoarse sound that gets strangled in his throat. The wood creaks.

Bucky’s eyes dart up to his face as he releases a moan at the flavor soaking heavily across the surface of his tongue. “You okay, baby doll?”

“I’m fine, _fuck_. Get that smart mouth to work,” Steve wheezes, folding his arms on the thick wood of the headboard so he can rest his forehead there, watching as Bucky tentatively reaches up with his left hand.

“I used to… I’m used to using…” Bucky tries.

Steve waits, understands, and closes his eyes. “I want it…” he grates out desperately.

Bucky gulps.

If muscle and image memory serves, he always used his left hand to steady Steve’s dick and his right for other things, like fondling or fingering.

Bucky’s fingers flex, the tiny sound of gears and plates shifting reminding him of how dangerous he is.

“You sound so sure.”

“I’ll let you finger-fuck me with it some time,” Steve groans, “if that tells you how much I want it.”

The groan that rips out of Bucky’s chest at that makes Steve shudder, and he grins and opens his eyes. “Filthy, Rogers.”

“You love it.”

Bucky looks up at him, brushes his cold metal fingers from tip to base. Steve takes his lip between his teeth to stifle a moan, thighs trembling. “I love you.”

Steve’s eyes flutter shut. “Love you, Buck. I l-- _haa, oh!_ ” Steve cuts off when Bucky leans up and closes his lips over the head. He slurps the precum up, pulls off and laps at the head like a desperate dog. He’s so focused on keeping his grip light. He could seriously hurt Steve, and that’s _not_ happening.

The taste of Steve is so sweet, so fucking good, it can’t possibly be considered a bodily fluid. It’s like salted caramel or something, and Bucky can’t believe he had forgotten the weight of Steve’s dick on his tongue.

“ _Mmm,_ Christ, Steve,” Bucky moans, lifting his right hand to curve his arm around Steve’s thighs. He grips his ass and squeezes, guides him forward so he can get more of Steve’s cock into his mouth.

It’s like riding a bike, sucking cock. Bucky remembers all the tricks, all the best ways to tease, the best ways to please. He has Steve quivering and panting and moaning hotly between gasps before he even gets a chance to deepthroat him.

 _That_ is not quite like riding a bike, however, and Bucky has to remember how to breathe and feels tears stinging his eyes when he gets Steve’s girth to nudge the back of his throat. When he looks up, however, Steve’s staring down at him, mouth agape, flushed from his chest to his hairline, baby blues glittering, and that makes Bucky moan right around Steve’s cock before he swallows around it.

Steve’s mouth falls open wider, and a soundless mewl falls from his lips.

Bucky sucks him until he feels dreamlike, his whole body buzzing, the only sound he can hear Steve’s sharp intakes of breaths and his heavy exhales of moans.

Steve’s taste coats his tongue, his throat, the heat of his precum making Bucky’s chest warm. He thinks, maybe, he should feel trapped like this. With Steve knelt over him this way, Bucky can only move to bob his head along the length of his dick. He’s practically helpless.

He loves that.

Just a little.

Because the trust behind it is everything. He thinks he’d let Steve tie him up and tie him down, and Bucky would still feel completely and totally safe. He’d feel free.

The difference between Steve caging him and Hydra caging him is miles and oceans and countries and planets and _galaxies_ different.

“Bucky, hey,” Steve groans, and Bucky looks up at him in wonder, still sucking his cock leisurely and deeply. “I have other plans for you.”

Bucky pulls off, strokes Steve’s cock with his metal hand, and watches Steve’s eyes follow the motion as his tongue practically lolls out of his mouth. “Tell me about ‘em, then. Don’t hold out on me, punk.”

Steve grins devilishly, but on his face, it’s just temptation and sunshine. Then he reaches one arm down to cup Bucky’s jaw, brushing his thumb along the seamof his lips. Bucky’s breath catches in his throat at the way Steve’s blue eyes go steely, his entire demeanor shifting with the slightest tilt of his head, the drop of his shoulders, and the arch of his hips. “I was thinkin’ about gettin’ you on your hands and knees so I could eat out that sweet ass of yours til you were beggin’ me to fuck you,” Steve growls, voice like velvet, gravel, and fucking sin.

Bucky’s dick jumps, leaking a clear streak across his belly, and he fucking _sobs_ at how much he wants that.  “The _mouth_ on you, Rogers!”

Steve’s expression softens, he’s blushing, and Bucky is overwhelmed with the desire to crush this angel of a man in his arms. “I mean… If you’re alright with that? If you want something else--”

“No, _please_ , that’s what I want! I want whatever you’re gonna give me, Stevie. Please, stop askin’,” Bucky mewls, running his palms up Steve’s torso.

“It’s important for me to ask.”

“The hell for?”

Steve’s gaze goes a few degrees colder, his mouth tugging down at the corners.

And Bucky understands; feels like he’s choking. “Stevie… I know you’d never do anything to… To hurt me. You’d never do nothin’ I didn’t want. I’ll never feel like you’re forcin’ me,” Bucky says softly.

His heart feels like it’s ripping. For Steve to still be so considerate, so thoughtful, so fucking careful… He’s constantly thinking about the fact that Bucky hasn’t been free to choose in a long time. He wants Bucky to feel that freedom, to never feel like he’s not in control, ever again.

But Bucky…

“If you want it, _I_ want it. You’re the only place where it’s safe for me to not be in control. You’re the only safe place… I trust you, Steve,” Bucky swallows harshly, because he feels like he might be tearing up, and this is not the place, not the time. “Please… Trust me when I say that.”

Steve closes his eyes and nods. “We’ll talk more about that later… Next time.”

 _Next time_.

Bucky’s body fucking buzzes with those words, and he shivers when Steve climbs off of him and lightly swats his thigh.

“Now roll over, you jerk.”

Bucky complies, rolling onto his stomach before he props himself up on his hands and knees. He’s already quaking and panting before Steve even kneels behind him, hands smoothing up the backs of Bucky’s thighs to settle on the supple cushion of Bucky’s ass.

“Gorgeous,” Steve whispers, breath warm across the small of Bucky’s back before he kisses there.

Bucky nearly bows down.

Steve kisses the curve of Bucky’s ass, bites playfully at one of the taut cheeks. It makes Bucky shake, and Steve sighs hot breath down the crease of Bucky’s ass. He digs his fingers into the tender flesh, groping and palming and smoothing, squeezing tight enough to leave the softest of pink marks.

Bucky whines, and Steve spreads his cheeks with his thumbs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve remarks.

“Fuck?” Bucky keens, looking over his shoulder through the curtain of dark waves that have fallen into his face.

“Holy shit, Bucky,” Steve breathes, and one of his hands slides away and a finger brushes over Bucky’s tight hole.

He curses.

“That’s it, Buck. Lemme hear ya,” comes a gravelly snarl behind him, and Bucky whines high in his throat when Steve spreads him again and licks the hot, damp flat of his tongue right over Bucky’s hole.

Bucky groans heavily, and he collapses onto his forearms, back arching, ass in the air for Steve’s taking. He pants against his flesh forearm, rolls his hips up to meet Steve’s tongue as it laps over him again.

Steve moans, kissing Bucky’s rim, lapping at the tight furl of muscle until it relaxes. Bucky taste so pure here, heady and clean and rich, and Steve buries his tongue as deep as it can go.

“ _Nnnngh,_ Steve. _Steve,_ ” Bucky drawls, his breathing heavy, fists clutching at the blankets.

Before, Steve would lick Bucky open like this for fun. He’d take his time doing it, sometimes getting Bucky to come untouched just from having Steve’s tongue working his entrance. He’s intent and dedicated in his work, circling his tongue around the rim, licking flat stripes from Bucky’s perineum to his tailbone. He treats Bucky’s ass like a delicacy, savoring each swipe of the tongue, each slurp and suck.

By the time he can fuck Bucky’s hole with his tongue, Bucky’s drooling into the sheets, eyes staring blankly at the vacancy sign flashing through the gauzy curtains. He can’t remember a time when he felt this fucking close to cumming, save Steve sucking him a few minutes ago. Yet he can’t. He can’t yet.

“Taste so fuckin’ good, Buck,” Steve moans, thrusting his tongue back in, palming Bucky’s ass with warm, rough hands. “Feel good, baby?”

“ _Hnaaah_ ,” Bucky wheezes. “Mmm, _fu-ah-fuck_ , Steve, oh god.”

“Could get you to cum just with my tongue, couldn’t I? Wouldn’t take much, I bet,” Steve teases before he sets back to work, teasing Bucky’s rim with little kitten licks that are too fleeting to satisfy.

“Please, oh no. Don’t, Stevie, _fuck_.”

“You don’t wanna cum on my tongue?” Steve asks, feigning innocence.

Bucky makes an unintelligible noise in response, then buries his face in the mattress and screams as Steve slides a finger in beside his tongue. “Want your cock, _want your cock_.”

“ _Shit_ , Buck, you sound fuckin’ _amazing_ ,” Steve praises, pulling back to gape open mouthed at the sight of Bucky’s lax hole greedily taking his finger. He laughs, delirious, and crooks his knuckle to press Bucky’s prostate.

Bucky’s thighs quake, his back bowing lower, his chest lying flat against the mattress as he keens.

“Turn your face, baby. Haven’t heard real music in a long time. Won’t you sing for me?”

“ _Fuck_ , Steve, you fucking--”Bucky chokes, turning his head up, resting his chin on his metal fist. “ _Sadist_ ,” he supplies breathlessly.

Steve purrs, thrusting his tongue in beside his finger as he presses and holds that intense weight on Bucky’s prostate.

And he doesn’t stop.

Worse, he fucks Bucky with his tongue, _and_ starts fucking his finger against his prostate, never relenting that pressure.

Bucky mewls and whines, he can’t exhale a single breath that’s silent, each pant flooding the air around them with sweet sounds. Steve is relentless, and Bucky sees white behind his lids, can’t stop shaking.

“Stevie, I’m too close, no please, oh stop, I’m gonna--”Again… Steve stops. His tongue and finger are gone, all contact with Bucky severed in a single fluid, painful motion.

And Bucky crashes, crying into the mattress when he buries his face again. He hears the sheet tear beneath his grip, his knees sliding in the blankets as he tries to bring them together. He breathes through his wide open mouth in long gulps, his entire body spasming.

Bucky swallows, throat suddenly dry, and he turns his face into the curve of his arm and whines. “A little out of practice, aren’t you?” He says, falling just short of snide.

Steve laughs quietly, a slow, dangerous sound, and Bucky feels incredibly vulnerable beneath it. “Sorry. Still trying to get back into step.”

“I think you’re doin’ a fine job,” Bucky pants.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Steve says warmly, and Bucky’s eyes fall shut as Steve’s hand palms down between his shoulder blades and follows the line of his spine. “Not too much for you, right, Buck?”

“Hn. Perfect… This is exactly what I need,” he whispers.

“Good,” Steve praises, and there’s thick relief in the sound of his voice.

Bucky’s nearly completely down from the high when his dick starts hurting. It’s throbbing between his legs, hanging heavy and thick, leaking. Bucky licks his lips. “You can’t tease me all night. Stevie, I gotta come for you. You gotta get your cock in me soon, or I swear--”

There’s a click, a snap, and then Bucky stops, everything stoppered up in his throat as he lifts his head up and his entire body tenses.

Steve managed to get the lube open and onto his hand, because he suddenly works two fingers into Bucky and scissors them, twisting and stretching his rim around their girth.

Bucky moans, low, languid, and long.

Steve chuckles, a breathy, gratifying sound. “Good, Buck?”

“I love you.”

Another warm laugh is Steve’s reply, and then he’s fucking Bucky with his fingers. It’s drawn out, achy and sweet, drawing all of Bucky’s attention to the sting, the pressure at the base of his spine.

He’s forgotten this, that’s for sure. If he thought he remembered what it was like to get into bed with Steve Rogers, he was wrong, because it’s so much brighter, so much filthier and sexier. Yet he knows this is also the most peaceful he’s been in nearly a century. Go figure.

“Yeah, Stevie, just like that. Oh my god,” Bucky tangles a hand into his own hair and laughs throatily. “Fuck, want your cock. Want you so bad.”

“You’re not quite begging. Not yet,” Steve remarks before the bed shifts, and then Bucky’s sucking in air desperately as a third finger sinks into him. His hand flies out and grips the headboard, and he’s glad it’s the right one, because this is some nicely carved mahogany and he’d hate to bust it.

“ _Fuck_ , please. Please, fuck me. Give it to me, Steve. Gimme what I need, oh _god_ ,” Bucky licks his lips and then bites, moaning hotly as the pain simmers away to pleasure, Steve’s fingertips occasionally brushing his prostate, drilling deeper with each thrust.

The splinters and shards of glass inside him grate about harmoniously, organized chaos, scrambling to get into position, though Bucky’s not sure where. It’s all a mess inside of him.

“Better. Still not satisfied,” Steve teases. “I don’t wanna hurt you, Buck.”

“Not gonna. You’re not gonna hurt me, _oh, holy fuck_. Ah, baby doll, you gotta be so tight, seventy years without my cock,” Bucky groans at the thought.

“You wanna find out?” Steve husks, and his fingers stutter over Bucky’s prostate, his other hand gripping Bucky’s thigh hard enough to bruise.

Bucky releases a filthy sound.

“Not tonight. Next time,” he repeats Steve’s words from earlier, and listens to the way it makes Steve moan above him.

“ _Promise_ ,” Steve growls.

“I promise, gorgeous. Promise I’ll fuck you till you can’t come no more. Make you take my cock for-- _ahn!--_ hours and _hours_ ,” Bucky swears, sinfully sweet. "Please, fuck me like that. Wanna ache when you're done; want my ass to be so sore from your cock."

“Shit, Buck. I need,” Steve breaks off, and then his fingers are gone and Bucky cries out at the emptiness, the loss.

He collapses onto his stomach, ruts his cock against the sheets, and turns to look over his shoulder to watch Steve slick up his dick.

_So fucking hot._

“How?”

“On my back. Wanna see your face, please.”

“Roll over, then.”

Bucky complies, breathlessly flopping over onto his back and spreading his legs for Steve to settle between them.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, Bucky,” Steve sighs, running his hand down Bucky’s shoulder, touching the seam of metal and flesh.

Bucky closes his eyes and stifles a whimper. He believes that. When Steve says it, it’s the only truth Bucky knows.

“Gotta let me sketch you sometime. Please? Haven’t sketched you in so long; you’re so damn beautiful.”

Those baby blues lose all traces of lust, only adoration and love left, and Bucky huffs to hide the choked-up noise he makes. “I’ll let you _paint_ me sometime if it gets you on top of me in the next five seconds.”

Steve’s lying over him in the next two.

They kiss again, tongues writhing, teeth bumping, and Bucky wraps his arms around Steve and touches every bit of him that he can, with _both_ hands. Steve loves it, moaning and rutting his slick cock over Bucky’s, eliciting some filthy noises from those kiss-swollen lips.

When Steve sits up, Bucky’s heart skips, then kickstarts into overdrive. He’s panting, open mouthed and wide-eyed as he watches Steve hike one of his legs up with a grip beneath the knee. His other hand steadies his cock, and _holy shit_ , was it always quite that fucking huge?

The head drags along Bucky's hole, catching on the rim, and Steve's dripping molten precum all over him.

Bucky’s neck aches, and he wants to drop his head in defeat, but he curves his hands over Steve’s shoulder and bicep, holds himself up, and watches.

Steve bites his lip, golden hair fallen into his eyes as he stares down and watches as the head of his cock sinks into Bucky’s hole, stretching him.

Bucky makes a desperate, inhuman sound.

“I’ve got you, Buck. ’m right here,” Steve whispers, voice a broken sigh, and there are stars exploding behind Bucky’s eyes, his heartbeat a steady hum. His cock jumps, spurts a few drops of precum across his belly, and he watches as Steve sinks deeper, the thick length of his cock slowly disappearing the closer his hips draw towards Bucky’s.

Steve's filling Bucky up by the inch, groaning slowly and sucking in wet pants as he stares down in disbelief at his cock disappearing into Bucky.

Bucky’s making noise, he realizes. They’re terrible little sounds, frantic and disbelieving as Steve’s breath comes in ragged pants above him.

There’s a tiny second of resistance, when Steve has to let go of the base of his cock and grabs Bucky’s shin to steady himself. Then Bucky’s being held wide open as Steve sinks in those last precious inches, and he bottoms out inside of Bucky and moans sweetly, breathlessly.

And there’s a striking bolt of lightning-sharp clarity that electrifies Bucky’s entire body. His nerves short circuit, his brain halts, and with that clarity, all he can see is Steve.

His skin is bright and hot with sweat, his perfect full-body blush coloring his cheeks, down his neck, across his broad chest. His hair is a mess, his blue eyes locked to the place where their bodies are joined, perfect red lips parted as he gapes in awe. He’s beautiful, fucking perfect, so damn strong and gentle and _beautiful_.

Bucky feels whole…

He feels blissfully whole, and when Steve looks up into his eyes and smiles like a giddy idiot, Bucky feels all the missing pieces of glass splinter back together.

Everything snaps down with the force of gravity times two, and Bucky feels the broken bits of him click together like puzzle teeth.

For a moment, it hurts, and he whines, grips Steve with a bruising pressure. His heart hurts, like it’s stopped beating in favor of melting around his ribs. Bucky thinks they might break, and then his heart would bust out of his chest and fly right into Steve’s hands.

But it doesn’t. It just keeps fucking hurting, making it impossible to breathe as Bucky beams up at Steve.

A hand cups his cheek, warm and sure, and Bucky closes his eyes.

He’s crying.

A gush of fresh tears spill down his cheeks at the press of his lids, and when he looks back up at Steve, his vision is blurry. Steve doesn’t ask, doesn’t say anything. He already knows. He just thumbs Bucky’s tears away, touches his face like he’s made of glass.

“I love you,” Steve breaths, lies down over Bucky so he can kiss him again. It brings his cock deeper, nudging at all of Bucky’s nerves, and he moans a fragile sob into Steve’s mouth. “I’m right here.”

“ _Steve…_ ” Bucky chokes on a sob.

“Good?”

Bucky’s breath hitches. “Good… _Please_.”

Steve nods, kissing Bucky’s forehead as he grips his hip with one hand, pressing the other to the mattress as he ruts up.

Bucky mewls, the sound punched out of him, and he sees stars again.

“Bucky,” Steve sighs, and the sound of his voice is somehow more inside Bucky’s head than the thunderous pounding of his blood rushing.

Steve draws out, slowly, and when he thrusts back in, Bucky’s back bows and he feels all his nerves alight with sparks.

The broken pieces settle into place, and wherever Steve touches him, they lie flat, switching seamlessly  into Bucky’s skin, muscle, bones.

Steve thrusts again, and there’s hardly any pain at all. It’s just bright, buttery light, the heat of Steve’s body, the warmth melting the pieces together.

“M-more,” Bucky whispers, dropping his hands to either side of his head. He dances his fingers over the fabric of the blankets, feels the seams with his right hand.

Steve’s brows furrow, sweat beading down his temple. “Yeah?”

“Please,” is all Bucky can manage.

_You’re fixing me. Feels so fucking good, Steve. I feel whole. You’re making me whole. Don’t stop. Don’t stop._

Bucky wants to scream, but he can’t, not yet. He’s still getting used to the feeling, this strange, acute thing that’s tinkling like pieces of glass through his bloodstream.

Steve bites his lip, squeezing his eyes shut as he presses Bucky’s hip into the mattress. He uses his other arm to hike up Bucky’s leg, hooking his knee over his shoulder as he bows forward so he can fuck Bucky deep and slow.

His thrusts are rough, punctuated by Bucky’s breaths and Steve’s grunts, but he doesn’t speed up. There’s control in the way Steve holds him, control that makes Bucky feel sheltered and safe. Steve curses through his teeth, digs his thumb into the meat of Bucky’s hip.

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Bucky. Oh, _fuck_.”

“More,” Bucky pants again.

“ _Yeah_ ,” not a question this time. And there’s no hesitation as Steve starts snapping his hips forward with more ferocity, a growl falling from his lips.

Bucky lets his head fall back and his eyes fall closed, just listening to the sound of Steve’s labored breaths above him, the way they shatter into groans. The pain is nearly entirely gone, and it leaves Bucky with the sensation of being filled, being whole, being fucked open by Steve.

“Oh god, Bucky,” Steve moans breathlessly, somehow finding words in the haze of this momentous occasion.

Bucky looks up at him, gasps at the way Steve is staring at him. Like there’s nothing in the world but Bucky, nothing so important, so beautiful. Steve’s eyes are like the fucking sky, and Bucky doesn’t want to look away.

Then Steve bites his lip, tilts the angle of his hips the slightest bit, and Bucky reels when his prostate is struck with the immense pressure. He groans, ducks his head forward to watch Steve’s body roll. His stomach is taut, chest heaving, and those gorgeous hips are pistoning his cock into Bucky like that’s what Steve was made for.

Bucky wants to touch, wants to run his hands all over Steve, but he’s terrified. He’s so afraid of hurting him.

“Steve…” He whimpers, because he wants Steve to reassure him. He needs Steve to tell him it’s okay. But he can’t force all that out. “Steve, _harder_.”

Steve snarls, and then he’s sitting back, kneeling up and lifting Bucky’s hips onto his lap with such ease it startles the breath out of Bucky for a moment. He’d forgotten what it was like to be so light, to be fucking manhandled and positioned like some fragile dame. Only Steve could ever do that, and it’s the hottest fucking thing, in Bucky’s book.

He keens in his throat as Steve fucks into him, and the new angle gives Bucky’s prostate no rest. Steve’s head is bowed, watching Bucky’s expression, his trembling stomach, his cock bouncing against his abs with each thrust.

And Bucky just can’t fucking shut up.

“Good, Buck? Fuckin’ you just the way you like? This hard enough for you, baby?” Steve huffs, his voice demanding attention, his hands curling bruises into Bucky’s flesh as he pulls him down onto his cock each time he fucks his hips up.

“Yeah, _yeah,_ ” Bucky nods, yelps out a desperate sound amidst all the moans when Steve strikes his prostate with a particularly brutal thrust. “ _More_.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Steve bites.

And then he sets a brutal, punishing pace, holding Bucky’s hips still and fucking into him without mercy.

Bucky’s eyes fly open, and a continuous whine spills from his lips, punctuated by punched-out breaths each time Steve’s hips snap against his ass. And the filthy, wet sound of his cock sliding in and out of Bucky’s hole coupled with the slap of flesh and Steve’s unchained groans…

Bucky smiles. “ _Ooh_ , that’s not the best you can do, Rogers,” he challenges between gasps and gulps of air.

Steve’s eyes snap up to Bucky’s face, a sharp, glittering light filling them from somewhere within.

Bucky’s grin widens.

“You little shit,” is all Steve says before he’s hooking Bucky’s knees over his shoulders, bending him practically _in half_ before he starts fucking Bucky with everything he’s got.

A litany of excited moans tumble from Bucky’s mouth, consisting of _ah-ah-ah_ and the occasional _fuck_. His mind goes fuzzy at the edges, a sparkling tingle riding up his spine, making him feel drugged and immobile.

“You let me know when I’ve fucked the sass outta you, Buck,” Steve bites with a laugh, drilling Bucky’s ass with a focus that never lets his prostate rest.

Bucky’s hands fly up and grip the headboard, and he hears the wood creak in protest as it thumps up against the wall.

“Oh, Stevie. _Oh, god, fuck, yeah_! Just like that! Fuck, you got no idea how fuckin’ good you are. Oh, _christ! Don’t stop! Ah-ah-ahn!_ ”

Steve grinds his teeth and fucks Bucky harder, a violence in his thrusts that would likely break a normal human. But Bucky is iron and sinew, all fire and bite, and Steve wouldn’t hold back on him. He knows Bucky would only be upset if he did.

Not to mention Steve’s brain power dwindling down to what it takes to make Bucky happy. The endorphins running amuck in his brain tell him to fuck deeper, harder, rougher, tell him he can’t find his pleasure without giving Bucky his.

The noises Bucky makes drive him crazy, egg him on, and Steve’s blinking sweat out of his eyes just so he can watch Bucky’s face. He watches the flush eating up his collar bones and throat, the flex of muscle beneath skin in his right arm as he clutches the headboard. And Bucky’s face is a masterpiece, with dark hair fallen across his forehead, mouth hung open and swollen from kissing, eyes like stormcloud glass.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve groans, and he plants all his weight on his left arm so he can reach around Bucky’s thigh--fuck, he’s got so much muscle--to wrap his fingers around his cock.

Bucky makes a sound sharper and higher than anything else he’s vocalized all night, and Steve fears for a moment he’s hurt him. “ _Stop, no, Steve! Stop!_ ”

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Steve gasps, and Bucky’s hand locks around his wrist and squeezes. His metal fingers, still on the headboard, tense hard enough to fracture the wood.

“ _Don’t._ Please don’t, I’m so close. I’m so fuckin’ close--I’m gonna cum,” Bucky whimpers, and he stares up at Steve like he’s being punished.

Steve laughs incredulously. “That’s the idea, Barnes,” he teases, but Bucky’s trembling all over like he’s suddenly freezing.

“Just you. Wanna come just from your cock,” Bucky rasps, and he palms his hand up Steve’s arm and squeezes his bicep. “ _Please, I know you can get me there._ This is what I need, Steve. _I’m so close_. Wanna come on your cock. Want you to come inside me. Mark me up-- _show ‘em I’m_ your _Bucky.”_

Steve has no idea what the fuck Bucky’s going on about, but it makes his entire chest feel like it’s on fire, and he’s choking on the flames before he dives in and crashes his lips against Bucky’s mouth.

Bucky’s legs lock around his waist, heels digging into Steve’s ass, urging him on. His cock is slotted between their stomach, the friction sweet but teasing, and the excessive amount of precum from his head slicks the way.

There’s suddenly icy, leaden panic flooding through Bucky. He’s a little nauseous, his heart is pounding so, so hard. Fuck, he’s losing his mind. He feels like he’s sinking. Feels like he’s falling.

When Bucky tries to grab the headboard again, Steve bites his lip and Bucky gasps. He turns his face away. “Steve, _I’m falling_ ,” Bucky chokes, and his hand paws at Steve’s broad chest. Steve turns his face back and claims his mouth again, licking deep and bruising Bucky’s lips with his own as he resumes his assault on Bucky’s prostate, fucking his hole with renewed fire.

Steve takes Bucky’s metal wrist, gently pries it away from the wood, all the while ravaging Bucky’s mouth. "Shh."

"I'm falling. _Steve,_ I'm _falling!"_

"Hold onto me, Buck," Steve pants warmly against Bucky's mouth, wrapping Bucky's metal arm around his shoulders.

Bucky tries to pull away. He tries to grab at the headboard, and Steve grips him by the hair and forces their gazes together. “Gonna hurt you,” Bucky whimpers, and when he flexes his metal fist, he hears the plates shift, feels the metal and welding sting along his shoulder. “Gonna hurt you-- _gonna fall._ ”

"I won't let you fall, Bucky... Never again. _I promise,"_ Steve says softly, and it completely betrays the way he's slamming into Bucky like he's just a warm hole to fuck. He kisses him again, softer. “Hold onto me. You won’t hurt me, Bucky. You won’t. _Hold me_.”

Bucky feels more tears touch his cheeks, swallows around a dry lump in his throat. And he nods.

He wraps his arms around Steve and holds him close, allowing himself to be kissed again as Steve groans into his mouth and thrusts deep and hard and hot. Bucky hears his arm whir and grind, recalibrating shifting and recalibrating, and he crushes Steve against him as if he’ll be taken away again. His mind falls short of panic, settles down slowly like falling asleep.

And then he feels nothing but safe, palming Steve’s back and shoulders with the hand that can feel, holding him captive against his body with his metal arm like a cage.

Bucky's punched out moans fill the space between them, Steve whining above him.

He feels loved. Bucky feels loved and safe and whole… And human.

Nothing about the past can hurt him here, in Steve’s arms, holding him, needing him. “I love you. I love you, Bucky,” Steve pants, like slathering concrete and liquid steel all over Bucky’s already healed pieces, making sure they’ll never snap apart and get lost again.

Bucky groans. "Stevie?"

"I'm close. I'm so close, Bucky."

Bucky's eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. "Do it, Steve. Come for me-- _come inside me._ Make me yours."

Steve curses sharply through his teeth. "Can't come without you."

"Not gonna be a problem," Bucky tries to laugh, but it comes out like a sharp whine.

"I'm right here, Bucky. I've got you," Steve manages through his grunts and cries, growing in volume and intensity. He's falling apart. He's losing his grip, and Bucky knows it. Bucky's _doing_ it.

Bucky threads his flesh fingers into Steve's hair and pulls, and their kiss becomes more of a mess of tongues licking lips and panting hotly into each other's mouths. It's messy, filthy, and perfect.

Bucky can feel the cresting of another wave, his cock drooling across their bellies, the singing heat of each thrust nailing his prostate making his muscles feel fuzzy. He's close, closer than he had been before, and Steve's not stopping.

This time he means it.

"Bucky?" Steve groans, and he gasps as Bucky's hole flutters and then starts squeezing his cock. "Come for me Bucky, that's it. Come on, baby," he begs.

Bucky mewls, forces their lips together so he can all but scream into Steve's mouth as he starts coming all over them. He has to tear away gasping for breath.

“That's it Buck; _fuck yes,”_ Steve says sharply, his voice somewhere far away, rough and desperate and sharp as sin in Bucky's ears.

“ _Steve! Steve, Steve, aaaaaaaah!”_ Bucky's shouts, his voice slipping up, up, then breaking.

His cock spurts thick, molten ropes of cum all across their stomachs, and Bucky can't shut up.

Steve pulls away, a strand of saliva snapping between their agape lips, and it's so fucking hot.

Bucky's destroyed, falling apart under him, milking Steve's cock with his velvet heat. Bucky knows he shouldn't be able to feel it, but he swears he can feel Steve pumping him full and wet like lava. He wheezes, his throat too raw to sound out another scream at how desperate and _filthy_ it feels.

And Steve falls after him, hips stuttering for but a second before he fucks Bucky through their aftershocks together. His moans are a symphony, like lightning in Bucky’s nerves.

All the pieces snap, perfectly crushed together, melted down so there are no seams.

He is Bucky Barnes.

He’s Steve’s.

And he’s crying.

Steve makes a gorgeous sound, like he’s in pain, ducking his head and pressing his forehead to Bucky’s as he keens in his throat. He bears down on Bucky, still rutting into him with jerking, half-aborted thrusts as he wraps his arms around Bucky and squeezes.

Bucky chokes on his own breath, holding Steve against him with such ferocity he thinks there may be bruises afterwards. But he doesn’t care. He can’t hurt Steve. Never again; not anymore.

Steve's gasping, sucking in harsh breaths as his entire body quakes. He groans out Bucky's name like a prayer, like it’s the truth to his universe, then drops his face down to nuzzle into the crook of Bucky's neck, lips parted against Bucky's hammering pulse.

“Fuck… Bucky, _fuck,_ I'm still hard!” Steve croaks, still rocking into Bucky, making stars blur behind his eyes and black fuzz the edges of his vision.

“More. _More,”_ Bucky whispers, tears gushing down his cheeks.

“Yeah? You sure?”

“God, please,” he wheezes, and Steve mutters a string of unintelligible cursed before he crushes Bucky in his arms and starts fucking him again. “Fuckin’ _use me_ , Steve.”

Steve makes an inhuman sound, feral and dark, and then a gentle whine.

The way he's hugging Bucky to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders and the small of his back, Bucky is suffocated and helpless to do more than take it as Steve pumps into him deep and hot and harder, _harder_ than before. But it’s slower, closer, and Bucky can’t handle it.

Steve’s kissing his neck, holding him like he’s so precious, and it seems fitting that he can be so strong while being so gentle.

Bucky sobs, because he's too sensitive to moan, his cock throbbing, drooling more cum between their bellies, his every nerve ending pinching and tingling with pinpricks. He's too sensitive, his prostate swollen and still being abused, and his lungs feel like he'll be unable to draw a real breath again.

But he wants it so fucking bad. He needs it so fucking much.

And Steve sounds amazing; beautiful and sweet and fucked out. Bucky has never heard him like this, moaning desperate and filthy against his throat, his hip movements erratic but sure.

“Fuck, Bucky, _fuck,”_ Steve gasps, and before Bucky can ask if he's ready again, Steve's turning Bucky's jaw up and biting his hammering pulse.

He closes his lips over the tender skin and _sucks_ , and Bucky sees a thousand universes snap apart, exploding into stars before he paints their stomachs with cum again.

And Steve spills into him, still thrusting, whining high and hot in his throat, teeth still in Bucky's neck. His scream is muffled by Bucky's flesh, but it vibrates through his bones and rattles him up so badly he starts trembling in the aftershocks.

Steve sighs, his thrusts turning lazy, his desperation dying down to something more mellow, a concentrated syrup that slides sluggish and sticky across their bodies.

Bucky keens, arching his back, rolling his hips up as he tries to focus on the ceiling. But he just sees past it to static space and bright stars, and he's suddenly aware that he's barely able to hold onto Steve anymore. He's so wrung out, so weak and sated.

No. Not sated.

He arches up again. “ _More…_ ”

Steve pants against his neck, and Bucky can feel his pulse pounding through Steve's chest against his…

They match.

“Stevie, please…” He whispers.

Steve stills, kissing the stinging mark on Bucky's throat. He laughs softly. “You just don't know… When to quit… Do ya?” He manages between breaths.

“I learned from you?” Bucky tries to sass, but he's still so shaken he can't sound very snarky.

“Whatever… I have no… _No_ idea what you mean,” Steve says, pushing up onto his elbows to kiss and nuzzle and pant against Bucky's jaw and neck and collar.

“Please, Steve, _c’mon_ , I can take it.  One more, just one more. God, _please_ ,” Bucky demands, and when he bucks his hips up against Steve again Steve's cock fucks into his swollen prostate and Bucky cries out a sharp, aching sound.

Damn it, it hurts, but he's not ready to be done, he's not ready for this to be over, _he's not._

“Buck, stop. Shh, easy, baby. It's alright. We're done for now,” Steve whispers soothingly. “C’mon, when was I ever the level head during sex? You need to be the voice of reason here.”

“The voice of reason wants to come again,” Bucky growls. Or tries to growl. He's too fucked out to be menacing.

“Buck, you remember that time I made you come _six times_ in _one night_?” Steve rasps, kissing Bucky's stumbled jaw, and Bucky groans against the feel of coming down from his high.

He wants to stay in the clouds. He wants to stay buzzing and hot and blissfully whole with Steve in his arms.

“You wanna do it again? Let's fuckin’ do it again, Stevie. We're already a halfway there,” Bucky slurs, kissing wet and open mouthed along Steve's shoulder. He tries to paw his hands down Steve's back, but all he really does is dig his fingers into Steve's muscle and then drop his right arm. It's shaking, it aches.

“Not exactly, babe.”

“Don’t have to know fractions to fuck ya again,” Bucky grouses.

Steve shakes his head. “No, baby; not tonight. I'm askin’ cause I remember that night. Took me three hours and a lot of neck pain to get you to come six times,” he tells Bucky as if it were troublesome. “But right now? You've had two orgasms, and you're nearly as fucked out as you had been then. Though it’s probably my fault for teasing you.”

“I'm not fucked out, Rogers. Can it.”

“Pick your head up off the pillow then.”

A long stretch of silence crosses between them, and Bucky feels defeated because he doesn't really remember how to use his neck. The only thing functioning at the moment is his metal arm, and even _that_ is whirring and shifting like it's not sure which way is up. Bucky whimpers. “What about you?”

“I'm exhausted. I wish, _I wish,_ I could keep going, but the physical and emotional strain has been overwhelming--for _both_ of us. You understand?” Steve says quietly, kissing Bucky's temple where his hair is matted to his skin with sweat.

Bucky groans, long and loud. “ _Fine._ ”

Steve laughs sharply, but it's not patronizing. It's endearing as fuck, and when he props himself up higher to look down at Bucky, Bucky's lip juts out and he gives Steve a deadpan look.

“You pouting now? After I gave it to you so good you can't pick your head up?” Steve laughs again, shaking his head.

Bucky wants to continue pouting, so he does. But it softens at the way Steve's hair is a fucking mess of gold feathers, at how his full body blush has softened to a rosy pink coloring his face, throat, shoulders, and chest. It's hard to be upset with a friggin’ angel lying on top of you smiling the way Steve is smiling.

“I could pick it up…” Bucky muses dryly.

Steve quirks a brow.

Bucky takes that second to wrap his arms around Steve's neck and grunts, dipping at the waist and lifting his head up using Steve as leverage.

Steve exclaims, a laugh falling from his lips as his elbows buckle and he collapses on top of Bucky. Bucky wheezes, Steve crushed down atop him forcing the wind from his previously tensed stomach.

“Punk!”

Steve sighs, sweeps Bucky's hair back from his forehead so he can kiss it, and grins. “I love you. I'm so proud of you, baby,” he breathes, and he cups Bucky's face as he pulls out of him.

Bucky exhales sharply, soundless, and he feels gaping and bared and thoroughly used.

But he still feels together; whole.

The pieces are firmly stuck in place, a pressure between the creases making them feel smoothed over and hot.

And that's the reality of it, isn't it? Bucky will never be _whole_ again. He's cracked and flawed inside, and though the shards and missing pieces have crushed together and fit like a puzzle, without Steve, nothing will hold those pieces together. The reality is that with Steve, he feels whole. He _is_ together. But he's fragile.

Steve's hands are the only hands that could break him. They're the only hands that can take him apart.

And as Steve runs his palms up Bucky's hips, curls one around Bucky’s waist, the other riding his chest to cup Bucky’s neck, Bucky knows they’re the only hands that can keep him _together_.

“I love you,” Bucky breathes, and it comes out so rough and quiet Steve looks up at him quickly, eyes bright with worry.

It quickly vanishes, replaced by a smile that could shame the sunrise, and Steve presses up and touches his lips to Bucky’s softly. “I know.”

A sudden sound, sharp and violent, startles them both, and Bucky hugs Steve to him tightly as they both jolt up and glare at the TV.

The static waves crackle, the signal trying to ride a wave of interference that brings sounds from the speakers.

Steve laughs, cupping the back of Bucky’s head with his hand to draw him closer. “Easy, Buck,” he croons, kissing Bucky’s forehead before he slides off the bed. He flicks the TV and one lamp off before he retrieves one of their discarded, damp towels.

Climbing back onto the bed, Steve kneels beside Bucky and taps his hip. “Lemme clean you up.”

“No,” Bucky grouses. “Just lay on me. Let’s stick together.”

Steve gives him a blank stare, and Bucky touches a finger to the streaks of cum on his belly. “Stick…?”

The groan Steve releases could move mountains.

“Laugh at my shit joke.”

“Not gonna happen,” Steve scolds, and then he’s toweling the mess of Bucky’s cum off of his stomach.

“Fine. I’ll let you clean me, then. Only because it feels so damn good,” Bucky sighs, head sinking into the pillow as his lids fall shut. His nerves are tingly and light, muscles like wrung-out cloth as Steve spreads his legs and cleans the mess from between his thighs.

“You’re gorgeous,” Steve murmurs, hands running over Bucky’s skin. “And _so_ reasonable.”

Bucky makes a noise of agreement.

Steve’s kissing him, then; peppering his lips across Bucky’s thighs, hips, up his stomach and sides. He takes Bucky’s right hand in his, kissing his fingertips, drawing a smile on Bucky’s lips. Then he does the same to the left, making Bucky’s heart squeeze and effectively trapping the breath in his throat.

“You don’t have to…” Bucky sighs, staring up at the ceiling as the pressure sensors react to Steve’s touch.

Steve’s fingers trail up the curve of his metal arm, and when Steve’s weight is over him again, Bucky chokes on a blissful sound when those lips touch the metal and flesh seam again.

“I _want_ to,” Steve replies, lavishing Bucky’s scars with more kisses before he turns his face in and nuzzles Bucky’s throat. He kisses there, too, hugging Bucky around the waist with one arm, tangling his other hand into Bucky’s hair. He tugs softly, angling Bucky’s head back so he can touch more of Bucky’s throat with his lips and his infuriatingly hot breath. “I promise, I want to,” Steve husks, palming Bucky’s arm, the plates recalibrating in the wake of his touch.

“ _Steve_. Thought you said you were exhausted,” Bucky groans, running his palms from the small of Steve’s back up to his shoulders.

“I am,” Steve sighs, turning Bucky’s face so he can kiss the other side of his throat. “Can I not kiss you just cause I’m tired?”

“Well, you’re…” Bucky shifts, his cock pressing against Steve’s thigh. He’s not hard, no way, but he could get there with minimal effort.

Steve laughs, shifting back onto his knees, straddling Bucky in a way that should be illegal. “You’re insatiable.”

“Never seemed to bother you before,” Bucky quips, hands settling on Steve’s hips.

“Yeah, well…” Steve removes Bucky’s hands and pushes him around, manages to tug the thick comforter out from under him so he can cover Bucky with it before climbing into the bed beside him. “I’ve had a long off-season.”

Bucky turns over, curling against Steve with his face pressed to Steve’s throat. “Me too,” he says, muffled against Steve's pulse. “But vacation’s over, pal.”

“I’ll say,” Steve snickers.

Bucky smiles. He wraps his metal arm across Steve's waist with zero hesitation, and Steve curls one arm around Bucky's neck and laces their fingers together with the other.

It's surreal, the feel of being wrapped around Steve, pressure sensors telling him Steve's hand is gentle, tangled with his. Steve's breathing has softened, his body heat leaking into Bucky, drugging him in the scent and light and warmth of the afterglow.

“Tomorrow… We gotta get back to reality, huh?” Bucky sighs.

Nodding, Steve kisses his hair. “Right now… I’m alright. I’m better than alright.”

“And… This is okay? We,” Bucky licks his lips and hugs Steve tighter. “We’re okay?”

Steve kisses the top of his head. “Why wouldn't we be?”

“Besides the obvious?” Bucky snorts.

“I have you. You have me. Everything else--we’ll think that out later,” Steve tells him warmly, and Bucky thinks that Steve's word is enough. The world can wait on them, spin a little slower, just till they figure it all out.

And when they do, Steve will be right there, and Bucky will be beside him. Bucky would like to see anyone try and pull them apart, after all it's taken to get to where they are. After all he lost, Bucky's not willing to give another inch. The world can fuck right off. All he needs is Steve.

“I love you, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, like it's a secret.

“Bucky…” Steve breaths, like he’s finally hit the surface after being under so long. Bucky wonders if that's how it sounds when he says Steve's name; like a prayer finally answered… Like coming home.. “ _My_ Bucky,” Steve whispers reverently, holding Bucky impossibly tighter, closer.

_Like coming home._

Bucky thinks that's exactly how it sounds.

  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Not too sure what to say here, other than this is WAY longer than any of my small Stucky Sunday ficlets. This was a journey... I have never felt worthy as a writer to partake in Stucky but THIS... This was worthy.
> 
> The hotel the boys are in WAS inspired by my own experience in a shoddy little room with two pals driving to the mountains. (But we weren't in Canada. Damn it.) Lemme tell ya, if that hotel wasn't apparently swallowed by a void on a stretch of subliminal highway I'd go back, just to thank it for being just run down enough that the boys could stay there and still have clean sheets. Bless you, lost hotel.
> 
> A GIGANTIC thank you to the two gorgeous and wonderful and awesome and super duper incredible artists who contributed to this journey with me. My fanfiction now has fanart. I have lived. Also, YIS. Off the bucket list.
> 
> This was gonna be a on-shot for the Big Bang, but there could be more. Who knows? Not me, that's for sure. Certainly not you guys.
> 
> Now I'm rambling. Thanks guys, as always. I love ya.


End file.
